Another Year, Another DADA Professor
by MansionsOfDarkness
Summary: The new DADA Professor has arrived, and Snape is all set to hate him. However, the new young Professor is more than he seems. Will Snape get over his jealousy in time to find out his secret, or will Voldemort get to him first? Warning: Slash pairings.
1. Avoidance

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 1: Avoidance 

Summary: The new DADA Professor has arrived, and Snape is all set to hate him. However, the new young Professor is more than he seems. Will Snape get over his jealousy in time to find out his secret, or will Voldemort get to him first? 

Disclaimer: I know these really don't save you from getting sued, but no one's been sued by JKR yet, so we've got hope, right? I don't own anything except the plot and my original character, Malachai Tomaren. Go me. 

Pairings: Lucius/Severus, Severus/OC later 

Warnings: Obviously this contains slash. If you have a problem with that, you are hereby notified to get over it, go elsewhere, and worry about more important things. 

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Severus Snape regarded himself critically in the one mirror his chambers at Hogwarts contained. It was mere hours away from the annual start of term feast, and he had to make sure that he looked imposing enough to suitably frighten the first-years before they even stepped foot inside his classroom. Neville Longbottom was a sixth-year now, and would no longer be a giant bulls-eye for Severus to vent his frustrations on. But really, he was glad for the peace Neville's absence from Advanced Potions had promised. No more gigantic fizzing disasters to clean up after, no more Poppy teasing him about the startling number of students Neville's bumbling had sent to the hospital wing. 

He scowled at his reflection and turned with a sigh, trying not to think about Hogwarts' newest addition to the teaching staff. '_Another year, another Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor,_' he thought grimly. 

He hadn't actually met the man. Dumbledore had called a staff meeting the day after the new Professor's arrival so that everyone could meet him, and Severus had conspicuously not turned up. It was ridiculous how many DADA professors Hogwarts had seen over the last decade - a smart Headmaster would've just given Snape the job after the Quirrel disaster. At least he was really himself. At least they knew he'd stay. 

But no. This year - yet again - he'd been passed over for the job. This year, it'd been given to one Malachai Tomaren. The name had been boiling in his head since Dumbledore had first announced it. Some foreigner who hadn't himself attended Hogwarts. A foreigner who thought that _he_ was better qualified to teach these children how to defend themselves against Voldemort's evil. Snape wanted to march up to this Malachai and demand to know if he'd even ever come up against the Dark Arts. So often these professed 'experts' were experts in theory only. 'Lockhart, for example,' he groused to himself. ..But of course that would first require admitting that the man existed. 

Severus exited his private chambers and went for a skulk round the dungeons. He enjoyed them most as they were now: empty, quiet, and dark. Only a few of the wall torches were lit, and shadows roamed freely through the dank corridors. Now if he could manage to avoid the Bloody Baron, or Peeves, he could enjoy his walk before he absolutely had to join the feast. 

But peace was fleeting, and he had to be seated at the head table before students began filing in. He found his thoughts simply would not settle anyway. He just hoped that that Tomaren person wasn't going to be seated anywhere near him. A man could only be civil to so many incompetent professors in his lifetime. 

Fortunately, when he reached the great all, there was no face among the already present staff he didn't recognize. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had just popped up behind him before he'd taken two steps towards his seat. And he wasn't alone. 

"Ah, Severus. Just the fellow I wanted to see." 

Snape grimaced, and slowly turned towards Dumbledore, catching a good view of twinkling eyes and the old man's impish smile. He steeled himself against the introduction he felt was surely coming, and turned his scrutiny to the woman standing next to the Headmaster. Wait - woman? 

Severus did a double take, realizing that the 'woman' standing next to Dumbledore .. was just a rather feminine man. An image of Lucius in all his finery flashed through Severus' head, and he realized that really wasn't so odd. And _that_ meant... 

"I don't believe you've yet met our newest Professor." 

Severus groaned inwardly. Here it came. 

"This is Malachai Tomaren. He is, of course, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Malachai, meet Severus Snape, Potions master and head of Slytherin house." Dumbledore gestured between the two of them. 

Severus eyed Malachai distrustfully, ready to hate him at the first obnoxious smile. He had this image of the man being as poufish as Lockhart had been, though now he was changing his mind upon seeing the new Professor's somber color scheme. He was probably only in his twenties, Severus mused scornfully, looking over pale skin and long, stick straight black hair that hung sloppily past his shoulders. The man's robes were plain and black, and looking a little worn. Maybe they'd landed another Lupin. Severus hoped to Merlin not. 

"Nice to meet you," the other man offered quietly, and Severus recognized an American accent. 

Oh _Merlin_, not an American. Anything but that. "Yes," he agreed flatly. "You're from America?" 

Malachai nodded, expression still blank. It was like he just knew Severus was waiting for an offensive smile, and was determined not to give him the satisfaction. "Not originally," he added, but didn't elaborate. Which was just fine with Severus. 

Severus gave Dumbledore a questioning look. He just couldn't help himself. Malachai was now reminding him of a turtle, peeking out of its shell and wishing it could get back inside. What an interesting class the students were no doubt in for this year. 

Dumbledore was just smiling. "Well. I think I'd better be doing some visiting. Earlier, Minerva said there was something she wanted my attention about. So if you will excuse me, Severus? Malachai?" 

Severus nodded hastily, but Malachai looked as though Dumbledore had just condemned him to death. Oh, charming. A sour expression quickly settled onto the Potions Master's features. Severus watched Dumbledore walk away, towards the head table where Minerva was standing, and then looked back to Malachai, who was still watching the Headmaster. 

Great. Stuck with a very unsocial _boy_.. who'd probably never taught in his life, or actually had to defend himself against the Dark Arts, for that matter.. someone who was quiet, but would still turn up everywhere, getting lost and asking Severus for help... ARGH! 

Malachai had apparently noticed Severus glaring at him, for his eyes had grown about two sizes and looked about to bug out of his head. Well, that afforded the Slytherin with a bit of satisfaction, anyway. 

"I'm sorry," Malachai mumbled, then turned abruptly and strode off quietly. Severus raised a brow, but couldn't really say he was sad to see the other man go, and anyway he heard Sybil Trelawny crooning his voice wistfully across the room, which was frightening and needed to be dealt with. 

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The start of term feast actually progressed with little excitement, for once. Dumbledore's speech had been more of the same faire; stick together, love thy neighbor, don't bloody well get yourself killed by some raving Death Eater this year. Of course, Albus always made it sound more moving and tender, but Severus knew that's what he meant. The beginning announcements had been subdued as well, and when introduced as the new DADA Professor, Malachai had made a short, undramatic speech that Severus was thankful for. He doubted any of the students could hear said speech, considering the man spoke so softly that _he_ hadn't even heard it, but he also doubted anyone cared. The students had to be sick of the new DADA Professor speeches by now anyway. 

Severus had been seated next to Professor Sprout, who was the only cheerful person he had ever learned to stand, as she had such a candid, no nonsense personality. Once, during the feast, he'd gotten a glimpse of the new Professor, who was seated next to Trelawny. He expected to see another doe eyed stare of horror on the man's face (people tended to adopt that look when faced with conversation with Sybil), but Malachai just looked as if he weren't really paying attention. 

_I suppose it's just me, then,_ Severus thought with a bitter twist of lips. 

"Something wrong, Snape?" Sprout asked in her usual forthright tone. He heard more than saw her lean forward to peer around him. "Is it that Tomaren chap? Couldn't hear a word he said, earlier. Oh look, Trelawny's predicting his future. Poor bastard." 

Snape watched Sybil scoot closer to Malachai, and whisper in his ear with a mysterious smile. 

"Hoo! Looks like you've been replaced in her affections, man. And look at that, he's still trying to ignore her! Ah, he'll regret that, she just loves a chase, doesn't she, Snape?" Sprout chuckled in amusement. 

Severus ignored that last part, studying Malachai with a line of distrust etched into his brow. Malachai didn't look like he was _trying_ to ignore her, he _was_ ignoring her. He was staring at nothing, head tilted vaguely towards his plate. How was it that Trelawny couldn't ruffle his feathers in the slightest, but he'd all but fled from Severus earlier? _Not another one_, he thought with dread. They'd all shown the same signs, the previous DADA professors. They'd all had their strange little quirks, and avoided Snape like the plague, because they knew he wasn't buying into their acts. Only this time, he hadn't even had a chance to go through that particular ritual. Malachai had looked ready to flee the room at first sight of him. It could be nothing.. but Snape was no fool. Nor was he very inclined to trust this wizard. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Reunion

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 2: Reunion 

Summary: The new DADA Professor has arrived, and Snape is all set to hate him. However, the new young Professor is more than he seems. Will Snape get over his jealousy in time to find out his secret, or will Voldemort get to him first? 

Disclaimer: I know these really don't save you from getting sued, but no one's been sued by JKR yet, so we've got hope, right? I don't own anything except the plot and my original character, Malachai Tomaren. Go me. 

Pairings: Lucius/Severus, Severus/OC later 

Warnings: Obviously this contains slash. If you have a problem with that, you are hereby notified to get over it, go elsewhere, and worry about more important things. 

Chapter notes: Okay, so chapter 2 doesn't have too much Malachai in it, but this subplot is vastly important to the story, I swear. I hope no one minds.. I'm told it's not boring. ^_^ Also, as many others have said, it is indeed impossible to talk about Lucius Malfoy without mentioning his hair. Several times. And a note on pronunciation: the 'oe' in the name 'Groe' makes a hard 'a' sound. It's amazing how I got hung up the most on a stupid house-elf's name. *malicious grin* Anyway, that's about all ya need to know. So R&R!! 

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The next few days passed without much fuss or excitement, which was nice for Severus. He went about intimidating first-years and was unsurprisingly rewarded with very few students who could grasp the broader potential of potions. Once again, his beginning classes were filled with a lot of silly wand wavers who thought that a potion only had merit if it could bring you out in interestingly colored spots. 

One group of first-years in particular, Slytherin he hated to admit, seemed to take great joy in seeing their concoctions explode, preferably all over the Gryffindors. So they tried it every class. He thought he was actually going to have to start giving out detentions to Slytherins, horror of horrors. Oh, they _seemed_ sufficiently cowed when he gave them his best malicious stare and reprimanded them for their foolishness. Yet, the next day, they would be up to their old tricks. It was horribly Slytherin of them, and so he felt conflicting emotions of pride and extreme annoyance because they ought to be doing that sort of thing in a class that wasn't taught by their head of house. Ah well. He supposed he couldn't have a Draco in every year. 

First week of term was always the most hectic, mostly because of the first-years, and Snape spent plenty of time out of his dungeons and in the hallways, directing lost students and generally keeping order. Or trying to. That young group of Slytherins did seem to be unable to hold themselves still for any span of time. He found himself wondering on a daily basis if they all wouldn't benefit from a trip to St. Mungo's. 

This had come to absorb his thoughts now; Hogwarts and his students. It was nice to put all other aspects of his life out of the way for a while and concentrate on his job, on his potions. He could forget the rest of the world when he immersed himself in Hogwarts, and consequently was quite unprepared when the real world came crashing in. 

It came one early morning when he sat in his office, grading some of the first homework of the year before classes began, piles of parchment rolls on his desk and his favorite quill with the special pot of red ink within reach. He took particular care to go through every sentence of every roll, finding minute flaws where no one else might. It filled up the empty time, kept him from thinking about anything else. 

He was crossing out an entire paragraph of Rocelyn Borgin's parchment, a first-year's assignment on three ways potions affect the wizarding world. It was about the most general question one could ask, so simple to answer because the answer was limitless, and this was why he gave it to the students new to his classes. It was his way of being nice, and yet this girl was going on about explosions. Honestly. 

Suddenly, he realized that he was not alone. He felt a presence, very close to him. In fact.. it was standing on the edge of Rocelyn's parchment, staring at him. A house-elf. 

The urge to leap out of his skin left him after a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "I didn't call for you.." he began, thinking it was naturally one that lived in Hogwarts. 

"No, sir," the ugly creature rasped, "Groe is sent by his Master to give Severus Snape a message, sir." The elf tugged on the sack that covered him with anxious movements. 

It was then that Severus developed the headache. "Who is your Master, Groe?" he asked, as calmly as he could. 

The house-elf looked distinctly uncomfortable, and its big ears drooped. "Groe was told not to say, Sir." 

Severus felt a weight drop into his stomach. A dozen people's names went through his head, all of them people who he didn't wish to be given messages by. "..What's the message then?" he finally asked. 

Groe rubbed the end of his pointy nose, and glanced around owlishly, as if the walls had ears. Snape just looked irritated. "Master says that you must go home tonight, Sir, at midnight. Someone will be there that wants to talk to you." 

Severus' eyebrows rose in alarm. He too looked around, but more for a place to disappear into. His house.. he'd just moved back to Hogwarts a month ago in preparation for the new year, he didn't actually use the house during the school year. It would look strange if he just left.. he'd have to tell Dumbledore about it, anyway. This was not the first time he'd been given a message like this. Usually, he recognized the house-elf, and he'd been expecting such a message, because it meant that Lucius wanted to meet. Conflicting emotions raged through him, and he wondered for an insane moment if Lucius was using someone else's elf to make contact. But Lucius was in Azkaban.. if there had been a prison break, surely he would have heard about it immediately…. 

Or maybe this was how he was to hear about Lucius' escape. Severus met the elf's wide eyes. "Groe, who is your Master?" he asked again, quietly and with malice, hoping he could scare it out of the little creature. 

Groe hunched his shoulders nervously. Severus hadn't thought it possible, but the elf's eyes got even bigger. "Groe cannot say, Sir, Groe was specifically told not to say!" 

Severus sighed. He paused to rub his temple. "Then who am I to be expecting at home?" 

"Groe was not told, Sir, Groe was told Severus Snape would know who it was, Sir." 

Merlin. It had to be Lucius. 

"Alright, thank you Groe. Get out of here before anyone sees you." Not that Groe was in danger of that. He just suddenly wanted the house-elf to be gone. He wanted to forget about the whole thing, to stay at Hogwarts that night and pretend he'd never seen the elf. Severus stood, glancing around, and started pacing around his desk. He just couldn't be still with news like that. He heard the snap of fingers, and watched Groe disappear. 

He halted in his path and looked around suddenly, feeling out of sync with the castle around him. The few months with Lucius imprisoned had meant hardly any contact with death eaters at all, which had afforded him with a small sense of relief. He'd guiltily allowed himself to ignore that part of his life, to take a break from not only the spying for Dumbledore, but the lying to Dumbledore. He wanted to help the Order of the Phoenix as much as he possibly could; he didn't mind risking his life to spy for them if it meant an end to Voldemort and his death eaters, but he still wasn't entirely truthful with Dumbledore. Not all the time. Not about Lucius and their secret meetings. 

Not about the sex. 

It had been such a relief when he'd had an excuse to stop their meetings, despite the reason behind it. He didn't have to lie to Dumbledore after that. Now he felt as guilty for his relief as he did for letting the meetings occur in the first place. And what was he going to do? Lucius would be at his house tonight, waiting for him, probably fresh from Azkaban and raiding his kitchen. Then his double life would begin again. 

And then there was Dumbledore. He would want to know that Lucius was out, of course, he would be especially glad to know where Lucius was. He had to tell him. Dumbledore would want to know what Lucius told him, what Voldemort was planning next. That, Severus would be glad to give over. He had to go tonight, simply for that reason. The Order needed to know what the death eaters were up to. Dumbledore wouldn't send Aurors to his house.. that would definitely make Lucius suspicious, and there'd be no point sending him back to a place he could obviously escape from. 

'Everything will be alright,' he told himself. 'You're going to be harboring a death eater that you might not be able to hand over if Dumbledore ordered you to, but he wouldn't do that because it would give you away as a spy, so everything is fine.' Fine. Of course. Nothing odd or dangerous about it. 

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The rest of the day passed excruciatingly slowly, and Dumbledore kept popping up every time he thought he finally had found a moment to himself. Finally, Severus answered a summons to the headmaster's office, and explained what exactly had made him so 'green about the gills', as Albus had put it. 

Dumbledore had of course been pleased to learn where Lucius was, as indeed a prison break had been reported in that morning's Daily Prophet. Apparently he'd been hoping that Lucius would contact Severus, seeing 'how well Lucius got on with him'. 

The meeting had left Severus with a stomachache. He marched down the corridors back to his dungeons, trodding on quite a few toes and not even pausing to smile at Draco Malfoy, who looked positively horrified that Snape had brushed past him without even an approving look. He was just waiting for someone to get in his way - and wouldn't it be nice if that were Harry Potter - waiting for the moment to attack. The next person to so much as breathe in his direction was getting points taken from his or her house. 

Just before the dungeons and safety, to his utter horror, Malachai Tomaren came barging around a corner. He was speeding towards Severus with an armful of books, long hair obscuring vision of his face, but of course Severus knew who it was. The foreigner. He watched Malachai rush straight towards him as everything seemed to slow down, and in that moment he had a very clear thought: 'Surely he's not going to hit me..' 

Severus finished that thought about a meter away from where he'd started it, with a gangly body wriggling out of his lap, and the phrase "Voyages with Vampires" permanently embedded into his forehead from when the book struck him in the temple. He glared hard at Malachai, who was struggling valiantly to regain his footing. "I cannot believe you just ran into me. Every single new Professor has managed to run into me bodily at least once. Do I have a target painted on my face?" 

Malachai actually looked. "No. Just 'Voyages with Vampires'. Sorry. I don't know who would make a book with the title raised from the cover like that." His cheeks flushed. 

Severus vaguely realized the crowd that had initially materialized at the scene of the scuffle was edging away upon seeing him. Good. He noted that the boyish blushing coming from Tomaren was positively the most nauseating picture he'd ever seen. And if it weren't insulting enough that he'd just been clubbed over the head, the bastard had the nerve to hit him with one of Lockhart's books. 

"You're not serious." Hogwart's new Defense Professor was reading Lockhart. They were all doomed. Voldemort was going to make Hogwarts his main base of operations, and sitting at the dark lord's feet would be Malachai, reading his stupid 'Voyages with Vampires'. 

Malachai began picking up books. A few students had crept back over to help. Mostly Ravenclaws, he noticed, which Severus found ironic. They were supposed to be the intellectuals of Hogwarts, so what exactly were they doing anywhere near Tomaren? 

Malachai looked back up at him, and stood, with only half the books he had started with. "Well, I.." 

Snape glared. 

"Sorry," Malachai mumbled, then took off past him. 

Snape was left staring at a well-read copy of 'Zombies, Vampires and Werewolves: a DIY Guide', which a Ravenclaw was rescuing from the stone floor. He finally stood, feeling foolish for still being seated, and swept past them all without a backwards glance. On the way back to his chambers, he thought of several scathing insults he should've hurled at the young Professor, and his bad mood increased. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house-elf had said midnight, but Severus left Hogwarts as soon as he'd done a curfew check. He'd needed to get away from that castle and its enveloping aura of warmth and friendliness. His house was dark and dank, much like the dungeons at the school, and a chill fall breeze cut through him as he stood outside his door, staring at the knocker. He felt the idiot, knocking at his own house, but knowing who was inside was throwing him off. He stood outside a few more moments, telling himself it was purely because the chilly air felt good against his traitorous skin, and then finally unlocked the door with a charm and stepped inside. 

The foyer was empty and dark, as was the main hall it opened into, though further down in the den he could see a light on. He made his way down the hall, treading loudly so that Lucius would hear him coming. He knew he ought to call out, but stayed silent anyway, not wanting to draw Lucius out. He was not looking forward to what he would see when he got to the den, and was rather convinced that Lucius would be dirty, unkept, ghastly thin and missing a limb or two. 

The sound of his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the house was unnerving. He expected the small sounds of life as Lucius moved about, but it seemed as if he were quite alone. He would've liked that, but the light told otherwise. He came to the open door and peeked reluctantly around the jam, only to see an empty room. Blinking, he stepped inside and did a more thorough examination. Upon closer inspection, he found that the brown leather couch was occupied by a human-shaped lump hidden beneath the blanket he normally kept draped over his recliner. The couch's occupant was completely obscured from view but for an arm hanging off the edge, its wrist and hand peeking out from underneath the blanket. The skin was pale, and the long nails on the fingers were uneven and cracked. He crept closer, spying the top of a white-blonde head as he moved around to the opposite end of the couch. 

Well, either it was a complete stranger or it was Lucius, because he only knew one wizard with hair that fine and light colored. Severus felt a swell of pity realizing that Lucius had probably fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion. He looked around the room, wondering if he'd missed anyone else, but it was quite empty. Sighing heavily, he turned and shrugged out of his traveling cloak, draping it across the recliner. Then he left the room, to make an inspection of his house. 

His search turned up a pile of soiled, ragged clothing and a pair of very muddy shoes - the last of which had apparently been taken off on his Persian rug - of course, Lucius would be thoughtless enough to find the most expensive spot in the house to get his dirty things on, and on a family heirloom, no less. Grumbling, he took the lot of it and tossed it in the bin in the kitchen. 

When he turned around from this task, planning on checking on Lucius again, he was startled to see the man standing in the doorway to the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around and tied off at his waist. Well, that explained a question that had been on his mind when he was throwing away the clothes. He stared unabashedly at Lucius, mostly at the bare torso that had clearly lost a bit of muscle mass in the few months he'd been away in prison. 

"Lucius." That name held all the shock Severus had felt over the past day, all the dread and relief as well. He didn't know what to do staring at this man who'd become a stranger in such a short time, and so probably looked quite a fool as he stood gaping like a fish out of water. 

"Severus," Lucius greeted in turn, though his voice was calm and collected. In fact, Severus belatedly realized that Lucius looked quite clean and his hair, though it had lost a bit of its former luster, was shiny and brushed. Severus didn't want to know what state his bathroom was now in. "I wasn't expecting you yet. Didn't the house-elf contact you?" 

Severus felt a moment of exasperation - Lucius was already in control, dealing from the position of power as if Severus was the one in need here. "It is my house, Lucius." 

Lucius shrugged and gripped the edge of the blanket with one hand. "I couldn't find your clothes." 

Severus sighed. Lucius hadn't been to look for his clothes - he knew where the bedroom was, and Severus was fairly sure he could figure out how to work a simple closet. "Let me see if I have anything that would fit you." There was a time, not long ago, when this would have been an impossibility, but now Severus wouldn't be surprised. 

Lucius nodded, as if it were a matter of course. "Something nice." 

Severus continued to stand there, rooted to the spot. This wasn't how their reunion should be starting. It was probably better for his feelings of guilt over this matter, but he didn't like this awkward feeling. He had imagined quite a different picture altogether: Lucius dirty and draped in rags, falling at Severus' feet when the other man found him, Severus consoling a needy Lucius, getting him cleaned up and combing out the mass of tangles from that gorgeous mane of hair, and then Lucius' grateful smile as Severus put him to bed. A part of him had been looking forward to this different Lucius, but the man stood before him now just as haughty as ever, even if he did have the look of the very recently starved. 

"Right." Spoiled prick. He shook his head and walked back towards the door. Lucius didn't move for a moment, and Severus thought he was going to say something, but then the older man stepped out of the doorframe and let him pass. He turned down the hall towards the staircase at the end, listening to Lucius' softer footfalls as he followed. 

The trip to the second floor was spent in silence, accompanied only by their footsteps on the carpeted stairs. Severus was getting tired of the sound by the time they reached the top. "So. How did you escape?" 

A hand sliding over his hip possessively stopped him in his tracks, and Lucius bumped into him lightly from behind. "That's for later," he whispered over Severus' shoulder, making him shiver. Only Lucius could keep such composure after being free only a few short hours, Severus thought. It really was irritating. He frowned, though Lucius couldn't see it. The hand left his side, and he continued on. 

"Alright," he muttered, trying to give an impression of unconcern as he led the way into his room. The decorations here were as they were everywhere - simple lines and muted tones. The familiarity of his bedroom was subconsciously relaxing him, which was good, because he hadn't felt so on edge around Lucius since his friend had first joined Voldemort's side. 

Lucius immediately moved to the bed and sat down on its edge, watching Severus with the full weight of his gaze. Severus paused a moment to wonder at how little life in Azkaban had apparently effected Lucius, but didn't really know how to properly phrase a question like that when Lucius seemed so unwilling to discuss the subject, so he busied himself instead on finding something Lucius would wear. 

This proved to be quite a task, as everything he found Lucius turned his nose up at. After going through half the closet, Severus was beginning to feel a bit exasperated with his friend. 

"Listen, Lucius," he snapped, turning en pointe to face the blonde, "You can either pick something out now or go around naked. It's up to you." 

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Lucius asked, with the familiar Malfoy trademark smirk. 

It was after eleven p.m., Severus had been up since five, and he hadn't exactly had a good day. He really wasn't in the mood for this right now, in fact, he hadn't even realized the implications of his previous phrase. Severus' lips compressed in a thin line, and he merely pointed at the pile of clothing Lucius had carelessly discarded on his floor. "Pick. something." 

Lucius sighed, as if Severus were grossly overreacting, and picked out a garment from the pile apparently at random. Severus barely held back a scream. "This will do, I suppose," Lucius said reluctantly, turning the clothing over in his hands as if looking for imperfections in the fabric. "I won't be going out in public for a time, anyway.." 

Merlin. "About that," Severus began cautiously, wondering just what Lucius' plans were now that he'd escaped. 

"Tomorrow." Lucius answered, effectively halting any further inquiries. "Just find me something to wear to bed, I'm tired." 

Severus noticed the lines around Lucius' eyes come into sharp focus as this revelation was made. He realized then that all the weariness and stress weren't really missing, but rather that Lucius was just that good at hiding his weaknesses. He nodded, pulled out a spare nightshirt, and dropped it onto Lucius' lap. 

Lucius looked down at the thing as if he really wanted to protest, but took it in his hands and drew it over his head. He stood as his head reappeared through the neck hole, and unfastened the blanket from his waist as he drew the shirt down over his head. For one particularly malicious moment, Severus wondered if something tragic had happened to the Malfoy family jewels, resulting in his apparent sudden interest in modesty. But only for a moment. 

When the nightshirt was in place and straight, Lucius looked up at him from the floor. "And where will you be sleeping tonight?" 

"At Hogwarts, of course," Severus replied, allowing himself a bit of his trademark haughtiness, because Lucius was wrong and he was going to lord _something_ over the man, "I do have a job there, I don't just wander about spying for you." 

Lucius raised a brow at Severus' attitude, but didn't look as if he particularly cared. "Of course you do. You could go back in the morning, you know. After you've had the chance to fix me breakfast and I've answered all your little questions." 

"Sounds delightful," Severus muttered dryly. He wondered if Voldemort would really mind all that much if Lucius was found dead mere hours after his harrowing escape from Azkaban, the apparent victim of accidental food poisoning. Because he had a few potions at the ready for just such an occasion, and he suddenly felt like preparing a very large meal for Lucius' breakfast. 

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	3. Need

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 3: Need 

Summary: The new DADA Professor has arrived, and Snape is all set to hate him. However, the new young Professor is more than he seems. Will Snape get over his jealousy in time to find out his secret, or will Voldemort get to him first? 

Disclaimer: I know these really don't save you from getting sued, but no one's been sued by JKR yet, so we've got hope, right? I don't own anything except the plot and my original character, Malachai Tomaren. Go me. 

Pairings: Lucius/Severus, Severus/OC later 

Warnings: The slash is upon you! 

Chapter notes: Originally, chapter 3 was very long so I've split it into two parts; the first is the Lucius goodness and the second is where we get back to the plot. Bah, plot. Who needs that! In this chapter, we see why Lucius might speak so highly of Severus.. >:D 

Major thanks go to everyone who reviewed, to everyone who's still reading this despite how long it's taken me, to Kay for such great feedback, and to my wonderful beta, Killer. 

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Lucius Malfoy ruled with fear. Everyone who had ever met the wizard found out instantly that Lucius was not a man to be taken lightly. Nor was he a man others dismissed out of hand. No, anyone who met Lucius quickly learned to smile, nod, and give him whatever he wanted. Those unlucky enough to become his enemy regretted it every day for the rest of their lives, however shortened their lifespan might become. His enemies died screaming, and in torment. 

Suffice it to say, he would not be described as a 'fluffy bunny' sort of person. So when Severus was awoken early the next morning to Lucius Malfoy gently prodding him in the chest, and cracked open an eye to see the aforementioned tyrant smiling -actually smiling- at him, he almost had a stroke. Then he thought he was dreaming. Then he remembered what had happened the day before. 

Severus sat straight up in bed, one eye wide and the other still shut tight, his hair sticking off his head at strange angles. Lucius lay next to him, chuckling. He relaxed his posture and gave a snort of annoyance, running a hand over his face. "Stop smiling, Lucius, it's frightening." He risked a peek back at his bedmate, noting that the smile sat oddly on Lucius' features, as if it knew it didn't belong there. This also made it look like he'd swallowed something too large for his throat. "You look in pain." 

"Don't be silly," Lucius murmured, and Severus was glad to hear that his voice hadn't lost that evil purring quality to it. It was the type of sound that kept one up at night, shivering even when it was warm. 

Severus felt the sheets and covers shift around him as Lucius stretched like a contented cat. "It's the first time in months I've woken up in a real bed. I have reason to smile." 

"So you do," Severus conceded. A hand slithered into his lap and the yawn he'd been working up to turned into a gasp. "Merlin, Lucius, what are you doing?" he asked sleepily, and was about to push it away when the hand began fumbling for purchase amongst his nightshirt and settled firmly over his cock. Severus sunk back down onto his back at the onslaught of sensation brought on from just that little gesture. Lucius' rich chuckle rang out in his ear, and teeth delicately played with his earlobe as Lucius' hands went questing for the hem of his nightshirt. 

"I'm giving you a present," Lucius answered when his mouth was free to do so, "For so generously allowing me the use of your house." 

Severus wasn't so sure that he shouldn't be insulted by that. "Since when did we need excuses?" 

Lucius' hands dove under the nightshirt, dragging the thick fabric upwards, and grasped his hardening cock as if seizing a prize. Severus gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, and was instantly to full hardness. Three lonely months, it had been. 

"Alright, then. I'm molesting you in your bed because I want to, Severus. Because I've thought about doing just this for three months, and you're going to be a good boy and stop talking now." 

Severus would've laughed, if Lucius hadn't begun stroking him in earnest. "Oh.. Merlin, Lucius.." Severus groaned, throwing his head back. The friction increased, and his skin was bordering the line between 'pleasantly warm' and 'uncomfortably hot'. "Lucius.. Oil.." 

Lucius made a strange sort of 'bah, humbug' noise in his throat, then pulled his hands away and rolled onto his knees, settling in between Severus' thighs. The horrible absence of pressure on his skin made Severus open his eyes in time to see Lucius giving him a downright predatory smile. Severus felt so exposed then, with his nightshirt pushed up over his stomach and his thighs spread so shamelessly, and his cock gave an answering throb. "I've got some in the nightstand drawer," he added, in what sounded to his ears to be a horribly needy whine. 

Lucius flashed a toothy grin. "I remember." 

Then Lucius drew his nightshirt over his head and revealed his unabashed nakedness, and Severus felt dizzy. He'd seen the man wearing only a blanket last night, but it just wasn't the same until _all_ that gorgeous skin was exposed and Lucius was bending down to run his tongue along Severus' shaft. 

Severus couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this happy as he dug his fingers into the bed sheets and called Lucius' name. Lucius responded by digging his own fingers into Severus' hips savagely and sucking on the head of Severus' penis like it was candy. Soon, Severus' senses dissolved into one mammoth wave of pleasure that crashed against him over and over. Lucius took his whole erection in his mouth, pushing down on Severus' hips so that he could control the pace, and began moving his head up and down the shaft. 

Severus groaned in ecstasy, his hips barely moving a centimeter but still trying valiantly to thrust as he wanted. He could just feel Lucius wanting to admonish him, but all that came from his mouth now were wet sucking noises. It was music to Severus' ears. 

A horribly marvelous tension was building in the base of Severus' erection, and he squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the intense sensations mounting within him, willing himself over the edge into climax. Just as he thought he must be mere instants away from orgasm, the wet heat suctioning around his cock suddenly disappeared. The air of the room was cool against his sensitive skin, and his eyes popped open very wide. Severus wanted to murder no one so badly in that moment as Lucius Malfoy. 

He reached up, digging fingers into Lucius' shoulder. "If you stop now I will kill you." he whispered urgently, putting all the ferocity he felt into his eyes. Lucius laughed, and gave his cock a few strokes with his hand, but it wasn't nearly enough. 

"Relax, Severus. It's not over yet. I want you hard for what's to come." 

Severus was about to protest when he was roughly flipped over onto his stomach, and his nightshirt was hitched higher up his back. He spit out a mouthful of blanket as Lucius' weight settled over him. He could feel Lucius' erect member poking him in the butt cheek. "What are you doing?" Severus asked, feeling the other man's weight shift around and trying to see back over his shoulder. 

"I believe I told you to shut your mouth a minute ago," Lucius drawled lazily. 

Severus bit back a snide retort, listening to him rummaging through a drawer. Oh. Right. Oil. He stretched his arms out among the soft sheets, feeling the most at ease in his own skin in this moment. The distinct sensation of being trapped was incredibly pleasant under the circumstances. He pushed his hips into the bed experimentally and was rewarded with a stinging smack to the little of his bottom that was exposed. Severus grit his teeth, craning his neck to look over his shoulder and try to catch Lucius' gaze. He wasn't the type to cry out, especially when he knew Lucius would just love that. 

"I told you to be still," Lucius murmured absently. 

Severus thought about that. "No you didn't." He wondered what was taking Lucius so damn long, just grab the jar of oil and.. 

Another stinging smack landed in the same spot, and this time it was a little harder not to make noise. 

"I did tell you to shut your mouth, though." 

"Yes, so you did," Severus agreed readily, but made no attempt to listen, "What are you doing anyway? Isn't the jar in there?" He was becoming increasingly irritated the longer he was forced to wait with this insistent erection draining all blood away from his ability to be suitably snide. 

He heard the drawer close and felt Lucius' weight shift again, then one of his arms was grabbed and yanked none too gently behind his back. "Hades, Lucius.." 

"You're such a naughty little pet," Lucius chastised, rocking his hips forward and spearing Severus in the ass cheek. 

Severus recognized the feeling of rope being wound around his wrist, and then the second was pulled back to join its mate so that his hands were bound tightly behind him. He always felt that he ought to protest at this sort of treatment, but it was making his cock positively throb with anticipation. "That's because I'm not your pet." 

Lucius' weight crushed him as he leaned forward so he could whisper into Severus' ear fiercely. "Sometime soon I will have to debate that fact with you, my friend. But as for right now, I haven't the patience. Why don't you just be quiet and let me fuck you? Do I really have to explain to you how much I need this?" 

This made Severus squeeze his eyes shut and push his hips back against Lucius. "So do it then," he replied urgently through clenched teeth. 

The weight was gone again, though Severus could feel it shifted downwards on the bed, and two slippery hands were prying the cheeks of his ass apart, probing the pucker of muscle there and stretching him wide. Lucius' movements became increasingly frantic, as fingers slipped inside the ring of muscle and scissored inside until Severus was pushing his face into the bedspread to keep from begging Lucius for more. As it was, he was groaning shamefully, and if he allowed his lips to form actual words, he knew they'd be spewing forth the most embarrassing rubbish. 

Finally - finally! - Severus felt something much thicker and warmer probing his opening, and Lucius shoved his way inside. The feeling of invasion was so much more intense than Severus remembered, and he gasped loudly as Lucius filled him to the hilt. He tried to get his knees under himself, so he could meet Lucius' quick, urgent thrusts with his own, but the man's weight kept him pinned. He pulled against the ropes binding his wrists, he writhed and pushed and fought, and was rewarded when Lucius' rhythm became more savage. This was a far cry from lovemaking, this was fucking, and it was the best thing he'd ever felt. 

Suddenly he had room. Lucius had shifted his position and Severus instantly pushed up onto his knees, digging his chin into the bed in order to do so. Then Lucius' cock was hitting that spot inside him, the one that made him cry out though he tried not to, and he ceased caring as to what noises he made. He heard Lucius grunting in time to his cries, felt fingertips digging into his hips again and a hand squeezing his cock. 

The pressure mounted within him so fast this time that it almost hurt, and before he could register what was going on in his mind, he spilled over the edge, shooting his climax all over the sheets beneath him. Lucius was not far behind, groaning something about being squeezed to death, and then thick bursts of the other man's come were filling him up. 

For what seemed like an eternity, the two lay where they'd collapsed, Severus still enjoying the feeling of being smushed against Lucius and panting wordlessly as he struggled to catch his breath. Lucius was doing the same, a hand still clutching Severus' hip possessively and a curtain of platinum blonde hair tickling Severus' chest. 

"That," the blonde finally managed to utter, "was a long time coming." 

Severus knew how Lucius really meant it, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "I noticed." 

Lucius made a surprised noise through his nose, then caressed Severus' thigh. Severus took it to mean his attempt at humor was appreciated. 

He could've laid there all day, reveling in the kind of mucky stupor that feels so good as long as you don't move, but of course eventually he had to face Hogwarts again. Tell Dumbledore that Lucius was indeed here, hadn't done anything remotely interesting except ruin a priceless rug, and wasn't interested in talking about his daring escape from the wizard prison. 

Finally, he managed to face facts. "I've got to get up." Severus said, trying to sound stern, pulling on his wrists that were still bound behind him. 

"No," was Lucius Malfoy's spoiled little child reply. 

"Yes. I've got students to teach. People to frighten." 

"Well. The second is important, I will admit." Lucius conceded, though he didn't make any move to let Severus rise. 

"Lucius.." 

Lucius sighed. "Alright. You can make me breakfast now." 

"Make it yourself." 

"You have no right to say that. If you had a house-elf, you wouldn't have to bother. That isn't my concern." Lucius pulled his fingers out of the divots they'd made in Severus' skin. 

"You're such a spoiled child." 

Lucius dug his fingers back in. Pain lanced up his side, and Severus winced. "Stop that." 

"Breakfast. Now." 

Severus heard the threat in that cold tone, and he knew he'd hit the point where he couldn't argue with Lucius anymore and walk away with all his pieces intact. Lucius had lost his patience, and being a prudent man, Severus recognized when to stop. Of course, there was still the matter of him being naked, sweaty, and dripping with Lucius' fluids. "Yes, yes, I'll make you breakfast. Let me just clean up first." 

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"Our Lord has been most interested lately in meeting with foreign wizards," Lucius announced later between bites of egg. He had settled in to his breakfast as ravenously as his image would allow, which meant that he was taking very small bites and giving ample breathing time between each. 

Severus sat across from him at the large oak table with a cup of tea in one hand and a bored expression on his face. Lucius knew him to be a straight to the point person, but he was afraid he'd appear to be pestering Lucius if he started asking questions again, so now he made sure to have an air of little concern. But not too little as to be suspicious. He reflected on the difficulties of this a moment, then took a sip of tea. 

"Foreign wizards. How bloody fabulous." he murmured after swallowing, and set his cup down with the beginnings of a frown as he remembered Tomaren colliding with him yesterday. "..Not American, by chance?" 

Lucius looked up from his plate, swallowed a bite of toast, and arched a silver brow. "A few. Why?" 

Severus waved a hand to dismiss his idle wondering, then stopped himself and allowed himself to look interested. "He hasn't set a Malachai Tomaren up at Hogwarts this year, has he?" he asked, stressing the name with a hint of scorn. 

Lucius blinked at Severus, which was the most confusion he ever showed. "No.." he said slowly, appearing to ponder this, then asked with a smirk, "New Defense teacher this year?" 

"Bloody hell," was all Severus needed to say. 

Lucius chuckled, then paused to finish up his eggs. When he turned his attention back to Severus, it was to say, "Dumbledore isn't ever going to give you that job, you know. It's pointless to keep applying for it. He needs a good Potions Master." 

Severus just nodded, not wanting to debate the point. "Acts like a frightened bird around me." 

Lucius tilted his head. "Who? Oh.. The new Defense chap?" 

Nodding, Severus stood up and took Lucius' plate to the sink. He set it inside, then decided he wasn't even going to bother with the spell to have it wash itself, and walked back to the table. "I've got to leave for Hogwarts shortly. When are you going to enlighten me as to what is going on? I'm presuming, of course, that you already have a plan for proceeding, and that it will affect me other than having you as a houseguest?" 

"Not yet," was all Lucius would say. "When we have more time, I'll explain everything. Your part isn't to come yet anyway. Just relax." 

"I don't like waiting for the unexpected to drop into my lap, Lucius," Severus warned. He thought momentarily of the house-elf that had visited him. 

"Yes, of course not. I know that. Relax, Severus. I'm not going to let you walk blindly into anything. That would make me look rather foolish, now wouldn't it?" Lucius smirked. 

Severus folded his arms across his chest, and gave Lucius a disapproving scowl. Chuckling, Lucius rose to his feet and closed the distance between them, his hands resting on Severus' upper arms. Severus stared into steel blue eyes and cursed his weakness. 

"Come back tonight?" Lucius asked, but Severus knew it wasn't really a question. "I suppose I could," Severus replied reluctantly. "Tomorrow is Saturday, and nothing important's going on at the school yet, so I should be able to stay longer. Then you could fill me in.." 

He'd meant to say more, but Lucius chose that moment to kiss him. It wasn't very tender, or romantic, or any of the things kisses were supposed to be. It was a claiming of the mouth, simple dominance, that quickly turned into insistent need. Lucius' hands found their way into Severus' hair, forced the two of them together while a tongue stabbed inside his mouth. Two sets of lungs drew in noisy breaths through two noses as Severus fought for control and lost. His arms were pinned between their chests, and he'd been lost under the onslaught of lips and tongue when he kissed back. 

The kiss was all too fleeting unfortunately, and Lucius soon after broke away, smoothing down the front of Severus' robes as he stepped back. "There's plenty of time for that," he admonished. 

Severus stared back at him, still rather dumbfounded. "..I'll come back tonight," he finally managed, and Lucius chuckled again. The sound was rich and dark and sexy. 

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	4. Deceit

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 4: Deceit 

Summary: The new DADA Professor has arrived, and Snape is all set to hate him. However, the new young Professor is more than he seems. Will Snape get over his jealousy in time to find out his secret, or will Voldemort get to him first? 

Disclaimer: I know these really don't save you from getting sued, but no one's been sued by JKR yet, so we've got hope, right? I don't own anything except the plot and my original character, Malachai Tomaren. Go me. 

Pairings: Lucius/Severus, Severus/OC later 

Warnings: slash pairings, language 

Chapter notes: Originally, chapter 3 was very long so I've split it into two parts; the first is the Lucius goodness and the second is where we get back to the plot. In this chapter, Severus experiences a break in and the only culprit who leaps to mind just happens to be his least favorite Professor. Biased? Noo.. and Dumbledore's insistant cheerfulness is not what Severus is looking for. 

Major thanks go to everyone who reviewed, to everyone who's still reading this despite how long it's taken me, to Kay for such great feedback, and to my wonderful beta, Killer. 

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Once Severus reached Hogwarts, he took his time strolling back down to the dungeons. The hallways were quiet and deserted with all the students at breakfast. He was trying to relax, to distract himself from Lucius and the morning's bedroom activities, which meant resorting to counting the flagstones that passed beneath his feet. He did this for a few minutes, then gave up, reasoning that he needed to be paying attention to where he was walking in case Tomaren decided to come flying around any more corners with an armful of heavy texts. Idiot. He was actually beginning to think that Lupin wasn't so bad of a teacher after all, simply because he wasn't Tomaren. Merlin, even Umbridge hadn't run into him. 

Realization hit that all he ever thought about was Tomaren these days. He'd briefly managed to immerse himself in his Potions classes, but still always in the background was the threat of Tomaren looming on the horizon. Even Lucius and the Dark Lord couldn't keep his mind away from the new Professor for very long. He decided that the next time he saw Tomaren, he was going to give the boy a piece of his mind. 

This satisfied him for the moment, and he spent his time planning out exactly what he would say when the opportunity arose as the castle's bright walls melded into the dark stone corridors of the dungeons. The distant drips of water leaking made a cheerful backdrop to his echoing steps and the scathing insults he imagined. It was with a smile that he approached his office door inside the Potions classroom, reaching out for the knob and readying the unlocking charm that would allow him entrance. 

He froze as he noticed something wet beneath his hand, and pulled his hand back, peering down at the knob. It was dim enough that he didn't notice anything, but there was still wetness on his fingers. He rubbed them together absently and felt a stickiness there, peering down at his hand with his brow creased in thought. There was something on them, alright, something thick and rust-colored, like paint. He raised his fingertips to right in front of his eyes, frowning in concentration. An all-too familiar coppery scent assaulted his nose, and he realized instantly what he was staring at. 

It was blood. 

Jerking his head up, he tried the knob, and found that the door opened just fine without his unlocking charm. Throwing the door open, Severus marched inside, wand drawn in his other hand and pointed out before him as he prepared to face the intruder. 

His office was empty. He glanced around quickly for signs of movement, then stilled to listen for the slightest noise, but he heard nothing. He strode to a door across the room that lead to his workroom which was hanging open. Now he couldn't recall if he'd left it open or not. As quietly as he could, he darted inside, still brandishing the wand out before him. The room had been ransacked. Nothing was thrown about or broken, but still, everything had been moved, heaped carelessly into piles as someone had sorted through them. His equipment was left alone, nothing from his cauldron to his mortar and pestle had been moved around, but jars of ingredients were scattered around the room on tables and chairs. The shelves they normally were stored on were all but empty. Whoever had been in here had been through everything - from herbs to dried animal parts - making whatever they were looking for impossible to instantly determine. 

Severus was quickly becoming angry. That someone inside Hogwarts would _dare_ to break into his office with intent to steal a potion ingredient was shocking. His wand trembled as he lowered it to his side, and he realized that the rest of him has begun to shake as well. He was absolutely furious. Dumbledore was going to hear about this as soon as he had determined what was missing. He swept over to his main workspace, picking through the clusters of jars and stoppered vials piled there, confident in his knowledge of his stock that he'd be able to easily find out what had been stolen. 

Out of the corner of his eye, the barest flicker of shadow caught his attention. He swung around to the opposite side of the room, but nothing moved. No one was in the room.. Or were they? 

He peered around the room intently, searching out any tiny movement, be it even another shadow or a strange haze to the air in case anyone was using magic to disguise themselves. Nothing stirred. 

After a few long moments had passed and nothing further strange had occurred, he remembered the blood on his fingertips. In his anger at seeing his workroom violated, he realized he'd completely forgotten about it. Severus turned and rushed for the office door. He really didn't think that someone would bother to break into his office if they were dealing with a substantial wound - one would think people would have the common sense to take care of that first, if only because bleeding all over everything would leave clues. And he hadn't seen any blood anywhere else in his office or workroom. Just that bit on the door. It wasn't just a drop or two, either, almost his entire palm was coated in it. 

So if the person hadn't been bleeding at the time, as circumstances would suggest.. they must have put the blood there, on purpose. Which meant that it had to be part of a spell. He examined the knob again, but found that he had pretty much wiped it clean when he'd grabbed it the first time, and went back to his workroom to scrape as much of the blood as he could off his hands into an empty vial. He stoppered it, placed it into a pocket, quickly washed his hands, and left his office. He locked the door again to ensure no students became overcome with temptation, and headed for Dumbledore's office. 

As he walked, he came to the conclusion that if the blood were indeed part of a spell, it had to be a teacher who had broken in. First of all, whoever it was had disarmed his locking charm, and it wasn't one that could be undone with a simple 'Alohamora'. No, he'd learned his lesson on that account two years ago, after the second break in. The charm required a second half to be completed, as well as the correct password, in order for it to unlock the door. Who could have figured that out? And Severus didn't even know many spells that involved ingredients like blood… what student did? He doubted even Ms. Know-it-all Granger had heard of such. 

Of course that brought up another disturbing subject. What had the spell done? Had it done anything? Was Severus going to suddenly collapse dead at any moment because he'd touched enchanted blood? These were questions he needed to present to Dumbledore, and quickly. 

He reached the large eagle statue guarding Dumbledore's staircase, took in a lungful of air, and blanked when he searched his memory for the new password. Sherbet lemon? No, he'd used that one years ago. "Merlin," he whispered furiously, glaring up at the eagle as he sought frantically to remember it. He'd used it yesterday! What was it? 

This wasn't like him. He just needed to calm down, and then he'd remember it. Honestly, he didn't need to overreact now. He rubbed his hand on his robes absently, as if he could still feel the blood there. Now, calm, think. Password. 

"Chocolate frog," he announced, stabbing an accusatory finger at the bronze Eagle. Nothing happened. Ok, ok, Chocolate frog had been the last password. Didn't it have something to do with Chocolate, though? 

Or was it something to do with oranges? "Orange truffle," he tried this time, staring hard at the eagle as it did nothing. 

"Merlin's beard!" he said angrily, wiping his hands on his shirtfront in frustration. Of course, nothing happened, and he wasn't expecting it to. 

"I didn't think that was right. Isn't it usually something to do with candy?" 

Severus blinked in surprise, then whirled on the voice, and came face to face with his least favorite person. Malachai Tomaren stood there, staring at him curiously. Severus stared back during a long silence, then abruptly drew his wand. "How convenient that we keep running into each other," he muttered wryly. Malachai looked absolutely shocked as Severus hurled the first spell that came to mind at him. 

"Petrificus Totalus!" he growled, effectively freezing the expression of surprise on Tomaren's face. Snape smiled grimly, and the password suddenly jumped into his mind. 

"Orange Cream." 

The eagle statue began to move, and Severus got a good grip on Tomaren, hauling the skinny Professor onto the stairway just as it began to rise and take them up. He caught a glimpse of a few shocked looking students who had apparently just left breakfast, and hoped that Dumbledore would be back in his office now. That might've been a good thing to inquire about ten minutes ago, he thought to himself, but now that he was quite certain he had in custody the person who'd broken into his office, he felt much better. 

Dumbledore's office was unfortunately deserted when he entered it, dragging Tomaren behind him. Once they were safely inside, he stepped back and cast a counter charm, keeping his wand pointed at Tomaren as the boy began to move again. 

"What is going on?" Tomaren demanded as soon as he could, but Snape silenced further inquiries with a threatening motion with his wand. 

"Stop that right now. Hands in the air, and don't try going for your wand, you thief." 

Tomaren looked confused, but slowly raised his hands. "Severus.." 

"That's Professor Snape, to you," Severus cut in, angered that the man would dare address him with familiarity. "Just because you've broken in to my office and stolen something from me doesn't mean we are in any way on friendly terms." 

Malachai raised a brow, and gave a nod, as if that made sense to him too. "Well I could see that.." he said with irony, "But I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't break into your office." 

"Silence." Severus growled, realizing that what he'd said hadn't made any sense. "I don't want to hear it. Just stand there and don't say anything until Dumbledore returns." Severus tightened the grip on his wand, almost hoping Tomaren would do something nasty so he could try out a few hexes on him. 

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long to hear the telltale grinding of stone that meant someone was coming up to the Headmaster's office. Sure enough, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, looking at the both of them in complete unsurprise. 

"Severus. Malachai. We missed you both at breakfast this morning." 

Severus' eyes widened at this information. So Malachai had missed breakfast, as well? That was all the further proof he needed to condemn the boy in his mind. 

Dumbledore collected his candy dish and held it out to them both. "Lemon drop?" 

One of Tomaren's hands began sneaking for the dish, but Severus made an angry sound in his throat and it froze, then returned to its original position in the air. 

Dumbledore set the dish down. "Severus, please. I don't think there's any need for that. Why don't you both sit down, and tell me what's going on." 

Severus stared urgently at Dumbledore, as if he could convey his fears with just his eyes. Dumbledore raised his hand and lowered it, holding Severus' gaze with a resolute one of his own. "Lower your wand, Severus." 

He allowed anger to flash across his face at the frustration he was feeling in that moment, but lowered his wand and put it away. Tomaren's posture relaxed, but he stared at the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk anxiously, as if it might be too dangerous a trek to go around Severus. 

Severus glared at the young Professor, then looked back to Dumbledore. "I'd prefer to remain standing." 

Dumbledore just nodded. "As you wish. Now, why don't you tell me why you were holding Mr. Tomaren here at wand point in my office? First, though. Do either of you have a class right now?" 

They both shook their heads. 

"Good. Don't want any students missing their classes, do we? Now. Severus?" Dumbledore unwrapped a lemon drop and popped it into his mouth. 

Severus nodded at the Headmaster curtly and thrust a finger in Tomaren's direction. "This man has just broken into my office-" 

"I didn't break into your office," Tomaren insisted quietly, and Severus shot him a nasty glare. 

"Of course you did! Who else would have done it?" 

"Hold on now, Severus." Dumbledore interjected calmly, "Did you actually see Mr. Tomaren break into your office?" 

Severus let out a frustrated sigh. "No, Headmaster, but he's the only one who could've done it." 

"How do you know that?" Tomaren demanded, just as meekly, and Severus whirled around to look at him. The boy was standing as if huddling away from him, his shoulders slumped, looking rather unhappy. Good. 

"Who else would have done it? I have worked with all the other Professors here for a number of years, and I know I can at least trust them not to break in to my office. If they wanted something, they'd just ask. You are the only one I don't know." 

"Well.. That's true..," Tomaren replied thoughtfully, folding his arms like a shield across his chest, "But it might have been a student." 

"No student could disable my locking charm-" Severus began angrily, but was cut off. 

"That you know of." Tomaren interjected, very softly as if he were afraid that if he spoke up, Severus was going to hex him. Well. He just might. 

"Excuse me," Severus emphasized the words and raised a brow, pausing for a moment before continuing. "This is not a simple locking charm. A student would not know how to disable it. And!" he added loudly before Tomaren could cut in again, turning back to Albus, "There is something else I need to show you, Headmaster." He pulled the vial out of his coat pocket and held it out to Dumbledore. Severus glanced back to Tomaren as Albus took it from him, looking for an expression to give him away. 

Tomaren did look rather guilty, but Severus wasn't entirely sure that wasn't Tomaren's normal expression. It was true that Tomaren looked about as criminal as Neville Longbottom, but that didn't mean he didn't do it. Looks, as proved to be true with many an ex defense Professor, were often deceiving. 

Dumbledore was studying the vial, sucking on his lemon drop thoughtfully. He looked back to Severus. "What is this?" 

"It's blood. I found it all over my office door knob." Severus folded his hands across his chest. 

Dumbledore adjusted his half moon spectacles and peered intently at the jar, holding it just under his nose. "Hmm. So you think it is from the person who broke in?" 

"Possibly," Severus said, "But it might not be. There was no more blood anywhere in or around my office, so it is unlikely that the person who broke in was bleeding. If that were the case, and they bandaged their wound after opening the door, they wouldn't have left the blood on the knob. Thus, I think it is easy to conclude that whoever put the blood there meant it to be there, and therefore, the blood must've been part of some spell or enchantment." 

One of Dumbledore's feathery white brows lifted, but he otherwise did not react to this news. "Are you suggesting that someone used blood magic on your office door?" 

"Obviously meant for me to find. And _who_, in this whole castle, would conceivably know anything about blood magic? I admit that my knowledge of it is very limited, but I knew enough to suspect something when I found it there. Clearly, whomever did it," he gave Tomaren a hard stare, "was counting on my ignorance on the subject." 

"Well. It is very rare magic as you say, Severus. In fact, I believe that there are only a few creatures in this part of the world that practice this type of magic. There are the hags, of course.." Dumbledore raised his gaze over the top of his spectacles at Tomaren, "Though we are not sure just how potent their magic is. Obviously, it was not a hag. And that really only leaves Vampires. I am most certain we can rule Mr. Tomaren out of that category as well." Albus smiled at Tomaren, his eyes twinkling merrily. 

Severus felt confused. He was sure it had been Tomaren, but he hadn't stopped to consider that witches and wizards might not be able to effectively use blood magic. It was ludicrous to think that Tomaren was a Vampire. Vampires didn't teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. They didn't normally interact too greatly with the Wizarding world, for one thing, and for another, they tended to be dead. But something was nagging at him, in the back of his mind. He remembered that when Tomaren had collided with him, he had spilled several books on Vampires. At first, he'd dismissed it as part of Tomaren's lesson plans.. 

"Could a wizard _learn_ to use it?" He asked, knuckling his chin thoughtfully. He looked up at Dumbledore with a brow arched in question. Frankly, this whole discussion was irritating him. Dumbledore wasn't even listening, he was ignoring Snape and automatically siding with Tomaren. That wasn't how things should be. Severus' years of history with Albus ought to count for something when he needed it to. 

"I do not believe it is something that can be taught, Severus. In fact, I am not very certain that it was used here. Just because blood was found does not mean that it was blood magic. That, I would think, would be the least likely of all scenarios. Perhaps the person who broke into your office had a cut on his or her hand. Was anything taken?" 

Severus felt defeated. Just blood, from a cut. No, he couldn't accept that solution. Maybe then he would be able to discover whose blood it was. "I don't know yet. My work room was obviously the target, however. Someone had gone through the shelves where I keep my potions ingredients. I'm assuming this means they were looking for a particularly rare item that could not be purchased in the usual Apothecary shops, because then breaking in would have been unnecessary. I will find out what was taken, and just whose blood this is," he said, emphasizing the last sentence, which had been entirely for Tomaren's benefit, and took the vial back from Albus. 

He turned on the young wizard again, staring at his hands, which were tucked away under his arms. "Any injuries lately?" 

Tomaren slowly held out his hands. They were completely devoid of cuts or scars. In fact, the skin was soft and unmarred by toil, a great contrast to his own potion-stained hands. Severus refrained from making a disparaging remark about that, feeling his hopes drop. He'd been so certain.. But there was still testing on the blood to be done. 

"Well then. You see? Nothing to worry about. Probably just a student. I will, of course, begin conducting inquiries for you, Severus. We'll find out who it was." 

Severus nodded curtly, then strode for the exit. He didn't want to be near either the Headmaster or that idiotic _boy_ any longer. Behind him, he heard Dumbledore and Tomaren exchange a few words, but Tomaren was so quiet he wasn't sure what had been said. Then the young Professor was walking behind him to the stairs. Severus took them first, thankful when Tomaren did not go down with him. 

"Professor Snape!" 

Back in the corridors, it was another story. They were empty because classes were in session, so when Tomaren called out to him, he couldn't try and lose him in a throng of students. That didn't make him turn and wait for the young Professor, however, if anything he quickened his pace. "Can't you go for five minutes without turning up?" 

Tomaren caught up with him anyway. "Listen," he said urgently, falling into step with Severus, "I'm sorry about your office. I didn't do it but I'd like to help you-" 

Severus cut him off right there. He didn't even want to know whatever else Tomaren had been going to say. "You need to stay away from me," he said slowly, "I don't know how you got it into that tiny little brain of yours that I would ever want your help, or conceivably be interested in speaking to you in the first place. It had to be you who broke into my office. There's no one else it could be." He turned his head to glare sharply at Tomaren, "So if I were you, I would be staying away from me, and my office, permanently." He shoved all the implied threat that he could into his tone, and gave Tomaren a very murderous stare. 

Tomaren stopped walking, and Severus glanced back at him to see him standing like a lost puppy in the corridor, with a wounded expression on his face. It made the potions master smile. Minerva, who was just stepping out of a classroom with a gaggle of first-years around her heels, gave his underwhelmed smile a questioning frown, but he just nodded at her as he walked past. 

Behind him, he heard a familiar young girl's voice shout, "Ten points from Gryffindor for being thick as a pile of bricks!", some laughter following, and Minerva's threatening tone, "Rocelyn Borgin! What have I told you about that before? Five points will be taken from Slytherin.." 

Severus wasn't sure what prompted him to turn back to face Minerva. The throng of students gave him a wide berth, and announced loudly, "Ten points from Gryffindor." 

Minerva gave him an incredulous look. "Excuse me, Professor Snape? Perhaps I didn't hear that correctly.. Why are you taking points from Gryffindor?" 

"Miss Borgin makes an irrefutable point, Professor McGonagall," Snape replied coolly. 

Around him, the Slytherins giggled, and he glanced around to see that they had gravitated towards his presence. The students from other houses were glancing at each other in amazement and anger, and he heard the murmurings of discontent. 

Minerva's lips had compressed into a thin line. "I think perhaps that we should have a discussion about inter-house relationships, Professor Snape." Hers was the tone of a woman not to be trifled with. 

Severus could not have cared less at the moment. "I see no point in that," he said sharply, turning to stride off again. The students made way for him as they were expected to. He heard Tomaren strike up a conversation with Minerva, and hurried on his way lest the obnoxious pest try and catch up with him again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Questions

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 5 "Questions and Answers" 

Summary: In this chapter, Snape finally discovers what was stolen from him, and the plot thickens. Instead of giving him answers, it has just given him more questions, so he decides to confront Malachai and got way more than he bargained for. 

Disclaimer: I know these really don't save you from getting sued, but no one's been sued by JKR yet, so we've got hope, right? I don't own anything except the plot and my original character, Malachai Tomaren. Go me. 

Pairings: Lucius/Severus, Severus/OC 

Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 for slash pairings and language 

Chapter notes: Firstly, I just want to say how cool bezoars are. I've always liked them, and I did some research on them for this chapter, which just made me love them more. They're absolutely fascinating things, real natural phenomena. 

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for everyone who kept reviewing and bugging me to continue this! I had to take some time off for my busy schedule of college and work, but now I'm done and this chapter (once I finally got started on it) only took a couple of days to write. I am already working on chapter 6, too, so stay tuned! 

Thanks to: theebee, missserpentine, killer-the-cat, Kisa Black, Doublemint, Marta, Anne O'Nimous for the high praise, and especially Kara and Rahela who kept reviewing with demands for the update! I love everyone who gives me reviews! 

* * *

Severus watched the sixth years who had been accepted into his advanced Potions class file sullenly out of the room. He'd been particularly vicious today, something that could only be attributed to the image of a certain skinny, raven haired Professor that kept floating around in his brain. He'd taken thirty points from Gryffindor in just one day, but even that hadn't helped him feel better. 

He watched Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini file out, walking shoulder to shoulder so their arms brushed, giving each other moony eyed stares as if no one else in the world existed. Severus wondered if any of their peers had caught on to that little scandal in the making yet. Lucius Malfoy would have kittens if students began gossiping about Draco's sexual preferences. Maybe Snape would just have to tell him about that little tidbit. 

_Tonight,_ he thought with a furrowed brow. There were certainly some mixed emotions as far as Lucius was concerned. His reappearance in Snape's life was an ill-boding prophecy, a foretelling of new struggles not only within his life but also the entire wizarding world. Lucius. Voldemort. Death Eaters. His future was like a vortex of Hell , black and abysmal, just viewable on the horizon. No matter what happened, no matter what side won, _he_ would lose. 

With a bitter smile on his thin lips, Severus turned his attention to the emptying classroom, just waiting for the last little gremlin to leave so he could get back to much more important work. He still had yet to discover what had been taken from his office. 

Harry Potter suddenly veered course from his path out the door and steered himself towards Severus' desk. Repressing a groan, the Professor noted Harry's downcast face as the boy stopped in front of his desk. Finally, after what felt like a bloody eternity, Harry looked up at him. Snape had his scowl ready. 

"Professor Dumbledore said-" Harry began slowly, as if the sentence were being extracted from his body painfully, but Snape cut him off just to get the conversation moving. 

"Yes, yes, Occulmancy," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and seating himself behind his desk. 

"..Right. And I'm sorry-" 

"Save it, Mister Potter." Snape glanced upwards to the ceiling. "We will resume Monday, 8 o'clock sharp." 

"Oh. …But Professor Dumbledore said-" 

"I'm very busy this evening, and this weekend, so it shall have to wait until Monday." 

Harry fell quiet. Snape blinked, glancing back at the boy. No arguments? No insubordination? "What's the matter, Mister Potter?" Severus surprised himself by actually being curious. Not concerned for him, just curious. He tried to catch the boy's gaze, but it was locked on his shoes. If there was something wrong, Dumbledore would want to know about it. It might be nothing.. But with Harry Potter, that was doubtful. Trouble followed him along like a shadow. 

"It's nothing. Just tired," Harry insisted. 

Snape arched a brow and stared at Harry with a Hawk's intensity. If Potter was tired, it meant that either he was sneaking around the school at night again, or Voldemort was giving him nightmares. He tried to glean some insight from Harry's emotions, but the boy was simply entranced with his shoes and would not look up at him. It was like staring at a blank slate, it was like staring at…. 

Willowy, raven haired twenty-somethings. With blue eyes. And puppyish expressions that just made you want to find a Beater stick and knock their teeth in. 

"..Fine. I shall see you Monday then, Mister Potter." 

Harry suddenly looked up, as if he'd thought of something. "Oh, wait. I can't Monday." 

Snape snatched at Potter's gaze with his black eyes, but the boy was already looking above him, at some point on the shelves behind his desk. 

"..What?" Snape felt his patience desert him all together. "This is something that you must start taking seriously, Harry." 

"No, no, it's not that. Only Monday at 8 o'clock, me and a few other students will be with Professor Tomaren-" 

"Fine! Fine. Tuesday at 8 o'clock, now get out of my sight!" Severus snapped, pointing at the door for emphasis. 

Harry looked surprised, but only for a moment. Then he went back to looking tired, and trudged out the door. 

Severus really didn't care. As soon as the door clicked shut, he was out of his seat and making a beeline for his office. Too much time had been wasted today. 

He quickly but carefully went about putting his disrupted work area back into order, making note as he put the vials and ingredients away as to which ones they were so he could figure out what had been taken. Shelves were arranged, vials, bottles, and jars grouped together with their fellows, surfaces were scrubbed. Every inch of his violated sanctuary was picked over, examined, and polished. 

Finally, after order had been restored, he stood in the middle of his newly cleaned area and reflected on the only thing he was missing. Yesterday, he'd had a small bezoar, stored in a sealed jar on the third shelf of his locked cabinet. Today, it was gone. This just made him more confused. What would Tomaren want with what was essentially a stone that had come out of a goat's stomach? This one had mostly been kept in storage to show classes when he covered the subject with them. He kept the large, valuable ones at home. 

Well. It certainly had to mean something. Bezoars weren't that easy to get a hold of. Not only were they hard to find yourself, their prices from second and third party finders were severe. Despite their vast powers and the advanced research that many wizards and witches had put into their study, not much was known as to the method of their creation. It was generally accepted that bezoars were created by the ancient magic; the energy of nature. 

Snape went over their many purposes in his mind, wondering what Tomaren would want with one. They were used generally in powerful healing magic. And of course they could eliminate any potion's negative effects. Bezoars were known to neutralize and ward off dark magic. They would be a great help to any wizard combating the Dark Arts. And since Tomaren was the Defense teacher, it would make sense that he might pilfer such an item. It made sense, but it still didn't explain why. The more he thought about it, the more questions Snape raised. 

He supposed that there was no helping it; if he wanted answers, he was going to have to go to the source. And if Tomaren kept refusing to tell him the truth, he might just have some success with Legillimency. It would be easier than obtaining a blood sample from the man to test against the vial from the door. 

Snape locked up and then made his way over to the DADA classroom. It was perched on the top floor of the dungeons, where the air was more fresh and less moss tended to grow on the stone walls. Severus felt the air change as he approached. It was a familiar feeling, but today it tugged at an urge to sink back down into the castle's bowels and hide himself away. It was a stronger urge than usual, which he attributed to his intense desire never to see Tomaren again. 

The man was nothing but trouble. Once again, he wondered why Dumbledore didn't see it too. Perhaps he was the only one. He didn't know; he hadn't spoken much to the other Professors yet this year. He'd even been quiet around Sprout when he saw her in the greenhouses last week. 

When he reached the DADA classroom, he found it occupied. Glancing into the small window set into the classroom door, he noticed many of his students from the advanced Potions class that had let out almost an hour ago. Good, that would mean that class would be over with soon. Snape moved to the wall to the left of the door, and waited. 

The door burst open not thirty seconds later, thoroughly startling Severus. He took a step away as he regained his composure, thankful that he had chosen to stand the opposite direction that the door opened in. Instead of the thundering cloud of hormonally driven teenagers that he'd expected to come stampeding out of the room, it was Tomaren himself. For a moment, Snape was unobserved, and watched the expression of utter terror on Tomaren's face. Snape's brow knit in confusion, and he wondered if perhaps the Slytherins had mutinied. That would definitely be a cause for house points to be awarded. He could just see Draco leading the charge, beating Tomaren over the head with "Voyages with Vampires".. 

"Are you alright, Professor?" a female student called from the classroom. Snape heard mutterings breaking out. 

"No, no, Hannah, keep going," Tomaren called over his shoulder. 

The Potions Master blinked, shaken from his thoughts, risking a glance inside. He saw Hannah Abbot standing at the front of the class, holding an unrolled parchment. 

"Alright, Professor," Hannah acknowledged, then continued with her reading. Tomaren nodded encouragingly back at his student, then stepped out of the doorframe and looked at Severus. 

"You just keep popping up everywhere, don't you?" the young Professor asked quietly, a spidery hand straightening his robes. Large blue eyes, too pretty for a boy's face, skirted the Potions Master's gaze. 

"There's irony for you," Severus muttered under his breath, then arched a brow and said a little louder, "Having some problems with your class?" 

"No.. not at all, not at all," Tomaren replied, preoccupied with smoothing his tousled hair. Standing this close, Severus realized that it was as thick as a woman's, and not stringy or greasy at all. It reminded him of Lucius' hair; full-bodied and full of luster. 

Not that that had any bearing on the present, he reminded himself quickly. "Mister Tomaren.. A word, if you please, after class." He conjured up his most stern expression as if dealing with a difficult student, but it was wasted on Tomaren, who simply nodded distractedly, gaze obscured by hair that refused to behave. 

"Sure, sure." was all the reply Severus got, while the distracted young Professor took a few steadying breaths. A quick, quirky smile was flashed Severus' way, and then the door was closed in his face faster than he could blink. Feeling rather affronted at the young Professor's lightning fast retreat, Severus moved away from the door and spent the remaining minutes of Tomaren's Defense class glaring at it in an accusatory fashion. The problem with the Defense Professor, he decided, that was that he alternated between acting like a mournful puppy and flitting around like a snitch. Either way, it was so odd that one couldn't get in any proper scathing comments. One didn't know how to time one's attack. 

Perhaps ten minutes later, the door finally opened to allow students to file out. Severus noted with a smirk that just one class later, the students he normally saw fleeing his classroom as if escaping from Azkaban were now filtering out in a much more relaxed procession. Blaise and Draco were the first out of the classroom, sauntering lazily as if they owned the world. Zabini had an arm slung casually around Draco's shoulders, in what was no doubt a wholly platonic and chummy gesture. Snape noticed Hannah Abbot staring at their backs curiously, and gave the affair a week before the entire castle was whispering behind their hands. It was enough to turn the Potions Master's stomach. 

Snape counted faces, noticing that this advanced Defense class was quite larger than his advanced Potions with satisfaction. He entered the classroom after the final students had trickled by, noticing a rather large scorch mark on the far wall that looked a few days old. So, Tomaren must be favoring the 'hands-on' approach to DADA classes. Severus could only hope that soon the classroom would meet with a tragic explosion accidentally set off by a certain Mr. Longbottom that would send Tomaren blasting straight out of the castle and into the lake. It was rather far fetched, but one could hope. 

Severus stopped short, seeing the Gryffindor Trio standing before Tomaren's desk. Ah, the three most irritating students to ever attend Hogwarts. He had never, in all his years of teaching, had any three students so intent on demonizing his character as Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. It would've almost been amusing, if it didn't turn out to be so bloody irritating. 

But, by the looks of things, Severus wasn't the only Professor to have a problem with them. Tomaren stood leaning against the side of his desk, one hand braced on its surface while the other rubbed his temple. "And exactly why, Mr. Weasley, did you try to thrust a vegetable up my nose?" 

Severus just arched a brow. The 'not-originally' American's accent served to make Weasley's antics all the more ludicrous. 

"It was garlic, Professor," Granger chimed in matter-of-factly. The group's mother figure managed to look haughty and embarrassed all at the same time. 

Severus blinked in confusion. _What?_

Tomaren self consciously rubbed his nose. "Right. Whatever it was. I saw you three passing it around before class. Now someone please explain to me what the meaning of this is." 

"It.. Was.. An accident," Harry jumped in, "Ron didn't mean to shove the garlic up your nose." 

"Mister Potter, why don't you let Mister Weasley speak for himself?" Tomaren said. He sounded tired. 

Severus found it all terribly amusing. Though really the Defense Professor had no reason to be upset. He'd had to deal with them much longer, and they'd been much more irritating. Thinking that he, of all people, was behind every bad thing that ever happened to them, no matter how trivial. Honestly. 

Ron's face was now as red as his hair, and he was stammering awkwardly in a soft mumble. The Professor finally looked away from the three Gryffindors long enough to notice Snape standing just inside the doorway. 

"Oh, hello Professor Snape," Tomaren greeted, as if they hadn't had that brief exchange in the hallway, "I'll be with you in just one moment." He smiled, as one might at a respected colleague. 

Severus inclined his head silently, eyes fixed on the Gryffindors who were trying not to look his way. 

After a few moments of pregnant silence, Ron muttered another apology. 

"Right," Tomaren sighed, apparently realizing he wasn't going to get a real explanation out of anyone, "Just be more careful in future, Ron, and from now on, keep your seasoning herbs to yourself." Tomaren ran his fingers through his hair and let his hand rest at the back of his neck, surveying the three students as if he just didn't know what to do with them. 

"And Harry, be more careful in the hallways from now on. That's three times you've bumped into me, alright?" 

Harry nodded silently. 

"And Ms. Granger-" 

"Yes Professor, I'm terribly sorry about that. I don't know what happened, I just lost control of it for a moment." Hermione winced sympathetically. 

Severus found himself wondering if the teenagers had chosen a new target to direct their paranoia at. How grand. 

"Right. …Right. Yes, well, I'm alright now. Accidents happen, after all.." Tomaren released the hair from his hand and straightened his robes once more. They did look rather too big for him. 

"Professor," Harry spoke up, "Will we still be permitted to help you out Monday night? With the others?" All three looked very anxious suddenly, Severus noticed. 

"Oh, sure. Just be careful. Now, you can all go. I believe Professor Snape needs to have a word with me." 

"Thank you, Professor, really. And I am _terribly_ sorry.." 

Severus made a face. Typical Granger pandering. 

"It's alright, Ms. Granger. Just go on now." Tomaren repeated, making discreet little shooing gestures with his hands. 

The three finally made their way out of the classroom, Harry closing the door after them. Tomaren sighed, and slumped onto the edge of the desk as if he'd forgotten entirely about Severus being there. Or maybe he just was that clueless to think that he could relax around the Potions Master. 

"So, what did you want to speak to me about, Professor Snape?" 

Apparently he was that clueless. Tomaren sounded as if he were working himself up for a lovely chat and a spot of tea. Or whatever the American equivalent was. 

"You really can't guess?" Severus folded his arms and looked down his nose at the young Professor. 

"Well, I assume it would be about your office that I did not rob. Find out anything interesting?" Tomaren stared at the far wall, slumped forward. He had terrible posture. 

"Certainly. I now know what you took, and what you're up to." So that second part was a bit of a bluff, but guilt would probably have Tomaren believing that it was true. 

"Or, you mean, you know what the person who broke into your office is now up to." 

Tomaren still wasn't looking at him. Severus decided that he was going to get vicious. And, failing that, he would use his wand. It was safely tucked into his pocket, just waiting to be used. 

"Still keeping up the innocent act, eh? Why bother now? I know it was you. I have proof." Severus spat. The fingers of his wand hand tingled in anticipation. 

Tomaren sighed, his head falling back. Hair tumbled over his shoulders, revealing the alabaster line of his neck, and little silver post earrings glinting in his ears. Very peculiar indeed. "How could you possibly have proof?" he asked. 

Just as Severus was drawing his wand to keep from throwing a chair in frustration, something bumped his shin lightly. Startled, he looked downward and saw a cat. It was housecat sized, and had the colorings of a Siamese. Which probably meant it was a Siamese. Rubbing against his legs and purring. 

Severus looked up slowly to Tomaren. "You have a cat." 

Finally Tomaren glanced over at Severus. The sight of the Potions Master, wand raised and being rubbed against affectionately by his cat, must've been quite a sight. The young Professor looked very much as if he were holding off a laugh. 

"His name is Dusty." 

"You named a Siamese 'Dusty'." Severus just stared. What was _wrong_ with Americans? 

"No," Tomaren explained. 

Severus scowled. Dusty mewed plaintively. Severus nudged it with his foot, and the cat trotted a few steps away, its golden oculars boring accusatory holes into his. Which was just silly, but nevertheless, Severus focused back on Tomaren. 

"Were you going to threaten me now, or just pick on the cat?" Tomaren asked conversationally. 

This was a new side to the Defense Professor that Severus was seeing now. He seemed more confident; a completely different person than the timid git who had turned tail to flee the first time they met. Severus could only ascertain that this meant this was Tomaren's bluffing face. 

"You certainly put on a bold front when you lie. Not going to blush and squeak out an apology this time, eh?" Severus began walking, holding his wand firmly in hand for when he should need it, eyes locked on Tomaren's face. In Dumbledore's office, Tomaren's true emotions had eluded him, but he was determined that this would not again be the case. He stopped when he was in front of the Professor and turned to face him. "Not saying anything? You looked absolutely horrified when you shot out that door earlier," Severus mused, jerking his head in the door's direction, "And what was that about Weasley sticking garlic up your nose?" 

Tomaren scowled, his cheeks coloring slightly. Severus caught his gaze and held it, waiting for the emotions to offer themselves up to him. Still, as before in the Headmaster's office, Severus felt nothing from the other man. 

"Not going to comment? What is this, the silent treatment?" Severus asked, biting off his words venomously. "The silly boy can't control his class, and has nothing to say in his own defense?" 

"You think you know me, do you?" Tomaren muttered softly, his self so void of emotion that it unnerved Severus. 

The Potions Master began to wonder if he'd been reading Tomaren wrong. He suddenly felt as if he might be leading himself right into a trap. Well, he had dealt with traps before, too. Severus was willing to bet that nothing Tomaren could throw at him would be enough to succeed. Not after how many years he'd been working as a double agent. Still, he pressed on, unwilling to acquiesce to defeat. "Granger, Weasley and Potter seem to have taken an interest in you. That usually means trouble, especially for Defense teachers. They've gotten rid of every one they've ever had, did you know? Had you heard your position was cursed, or didn't anyone bother to fill you in?" 

"Cursed," Tomaren spat contemptuously, though still Severus found no feeling behind it, "The job is cursed, or perhaps just the school? Perhaps its teachers are cursed with not being able to see the Death Eaters that lie right beneath their noses, and it takes three children to save their miserable. Old. Hides." 

Severus was fairly certain that was a direct jab at him, which amused him greatly. Good, he was getting somewhere. He realized he had underestimated Tomaren because of his youth; the man must be able to use Occulmancy to hide his emotions away so well. Of course, the Potions Master had not used the Legilimency spell yet. But first, a little more verbal sparring. 

"You think you know anything about Death Eaters?" Severus hissed, ignoring the cat that had appeared around his feet again, "What would you know about England's dark wizards, American?" 

"More than you obviously suspect." Tomaren straightened out, though he still did not stand. "Enough that Dumbledore thought I would be the best candidate to teach defense against them." 

"Or were you, perhaps, the only candidate? I told you the position is thought to be cursed. No one else wants it." 

"Except you." 

Severus drew himself up to his full height, collecting himself as he prepared the spell. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" 

"I am not as ignorant of my situation as you think, Snape. I noticed when you didn't come to the staff meeting Dumbledore called upon my arrival. The other Professors told me you wanted the job. They told me that you wouldn't like me, and that you would be suspicious of my every move. That you would look for a reason to get me fired." Tomaren said this all very quietly, once again appearing to shrink back into his shell despite the bravado of his words, becoming the caricature Severus had first met. So just who was the real Malachai Tomaren? 

Severus decided it was time to find out. "_Legilimens_," he hissed, striking outward with his wand as the spell burst forth and hit Tomaren like a sack of bricks. The younger wizard rocked back with the force of it, but recovered quickly. He slid forward off the desk, a determined expression in otherwise guileless blue eyes. 

Severus pushed forward against the mental barrier his spell had been met with, trying to force his way into Tomaren's mind. Now he saw clearly what he was up against; he had to admit that this boy was very skilled. He was giving nothing. The edge of Tomaren's mind suddenly formed shape. Severus found his mental presence standing in an all-white room that had no furnature or fixtures of any kind. This degree of Occulmency took skill, it was true. But Snape was no untried boy when it came to Legilimency. He pushed forward relentlessly, invading the space given him with his own mind, filling the white room and searching for cracks. 

Outwardly, Tomaren halved the distance between them so that they stood not a foot apart, and seemed totally comfortable like this, though a dark drop of liquid colored his brow. Snape dismissed it as a shadowed drop of sweat, unwilling to focus on something he did not understand that could potentially confuse him and make him lose his concentration. Distantly, a cat let out a low, threatening meow. 

Severus focused on his attack. He could feel the walls of the white room start to give, just slightly, to the force he was directing. The corners where the walls joined could almost be felt weakening, as if they would yeild and split open if Severus could just concentrate, just focus a bit more.. 

Suddenly, something was pushing back on the other sides of the walls. Severus did not falter, but he could feel a new force there. Obviously Tomaren realized that his mental white room wasn't just enough to contain Severus. That meant he was weakening. "Just give up," he heard himself murmuring darkly, almost crooning to Tomaren as he fought the walls' pressure. 

The physical world was becoming dim and less real, slowly fading out of sight as Severus reverted all his focus to the younger Professor. He couldn't glean anything if he couldn't even get into the boy's mind, but all he was doing now was managing not to retreat. This wasn't right. He had to break through the barriers and find out what Tomaren was so desperately hiding. He needed more distraction. 

Severus did the only logical thing a perverted double agent who was used to dealing with perverted golden haired Death Eaters would do. He grabbed Tomaren by the sides of the face, ignoring the sticky wet liquid smearing underneath his palms, and kissed him. 

Tomaren made a surprised noise, his lips parting slightly. The white walls wavered and shimmered for a split second as the wizard was caught off-guard. Severus pushed past the pretty boy's lips with his tongue, penetrating Tomaren's mouth the way his mind hoped to. Tomaren made a strangled noise in his throat, and a crack appeared in the wall. Severus shoved Tomaren back against his desk, pushing him so he was precariously perched on the edge, while his mind dove straight for the crack and wormed its way through. 

A hand caught in Severus' robes, trying to push the older man away, but Severus bore down on him, pushing a thigh in between his legs, mind swirling triumphantly inside Tomaren's. The first thing he noticed was that, though this mind seemed to work the same as the others he'd been inside, it did not feel human. Snape had only ever been inside one non-human creature's mind - a werewolf's - but this didn't feel like that, either. The landscape was wholly different, even if there were some recognizable aspects. Emotions were zooming away from him as soon as they could be spotted, but Severus was in now, and the white room would take some time to re-form, if Tomaren could manage it at all. He felt a pressure against his invading mind and knew Tomaren was trying to kick him out. 

Their faces were still smushed together, but Severus had stopped kissing him. The boy's lips were much too distracting. Their arms were wound around each other for support as they froze, balance precariously perched, both wizards too intent on the mental invasion to notice what was going on anymore. 

Severus' presence hovered in the black vortex of swirling emotions, reaching out for them. He had to get ahold of one, get into the man's memories. Find proof that he'd been the one to break into Snape's office. There, flying past. Deceit. He snatched at it desperately, but it disappeared just in time. Feeling his frustration grow, Severus pressed on. He had to get what he needed before the young wizard pushed him out and tried for a counter-attack. Aha. Pain. 

He threw himself around the Pain as it went spiraling past, absorbed it, and infiltrated the memory waiting there for him. 

Hunger gnawed Malachai's belly. He writhed piteously on a dirty stone floor, rags clinging to his gaunt form. His face pressed against the cold iron bars of a cell, lips bared, gnashing his teeth. His canines ached, throbbing with dull need, extending in dagger points past cracked, dry lips. Hands like claws reached through the bars of the cell, grasping at nothing. Around him was only darkness. The intense hunger within burned a line from his stomach to his throat; so dry, so thirsting. It arched into his canines and his head like physical pain, spiking through him like an iron steak. 

Severus stared at the sight with wide eyes even as he was forced out of it. The realization of what he'd been looking at simply would not come. That hunger had not been human. Those canines had not been human. And Malachai had not been lusting over steak and potatoes. 

That memory had felt.. Old. Severus needed more recent, he needed his potions classroom.. But he had been left too stunned by what he had seen, and though he clung desperately, he felt himself being forced backwards, flung like ocean spray against jagged rocks, unable to fight against the tide pushing against him. 

His head snapped back with the force of his retreat. Tomaren's mind was again closed to him, and he was staring down at very angry blue eyes. Severus struggled to climb off the man, who was now almost laying on his back on the desk, but Tomaren had his spidery hands twisted tightly in the Potions Master's robes. He shifted forward so they were both mostly upright, and brought his face very close to Severus', bearing teeth. 

Bearing fangs. Severus stared down at them in dull fascination as his brain struggled to catch up with the situation. Suddenly, he recalled another use for a bezoar. Certain types, including those that came from wild goats, were often successfully employed as a protection against Vampires. 

"You just had to push, didn't you?" Tomaren asked angrily. He kept his teeth bared, biting off every word, with canines conspicuously visible. "I may be mistaken, but I think attacking fellow Professors is generally frowned upon at Hogwarts, isn't it? But no, that doesn't apply to Severus Snape. I am going to Dumbledore about this-" 

"Oh really," Severus cut in loudly and with venom, "You think Dumbledore is going to be very sympathetic once I tell him what I know?" he asked, pushing against the other man to try and dislodge himself, but from those willowy arms came an amazing strength that felt rather like trying to push over a tree. 

In a lightning quick movement, Tomaren drew his wand and cast a silencing charm around the room, eyes turning from angry to panicked. 

Severus was unnerved by this, but pressed his hand further. "Suddenly not so brave now, eh? If you think you can silence _me_-" 

"Oh shut up! Dumbledore knows of course, you daft old fool - I just don't particularly want the rest of the castle to know." 

"Which they will, as soon as I tell them-" Severus began. The Siamese hissed at him, back arched, perching atop the desk by Tomaren's left ear. Severus shoved it off the desk. The cat let out an angry screech, claws scratching over stone as it retreated. Severus was just realizing that his hands were sticky with whatever had been on Tomaren's face when a knocking sounded. 

Both men froze. 

"Let go of me, Tomaren, or we'll both look like fools." 

Tomaren shoved him off, and Severus stumbled backwards hard, barely managing to regain his footing. By the time he was steadied, Tomaren was already answering the door. Unnerved, Severus tried to look like he hadn't just been snogging someone, and straightened his robes as he heard the door open. 

"Ah, there you are, Severus," Dumbledore's soft yet commanding voice spoke from the doorway. 

Severus blinked in surprise. The Headmaster had always possessed such uncanny timing.. "Headmaster. This man-" 

Tomaren huffed and shut the door behind Dumbledore, shrugging his robes straight with the air of a man who hadn't a care in the world. 

"I have just discovered is a Vampire, and I-" 

"Oh dear," Dumbledore commented, completely unsurprised. 

This shut Severus up quicker than anything else that had been said, making him blink a moment as comprehension dawned on him. "You knew?" 

"Of course I knew, Severus. Do you think I would let something like that slip past me?" Dumbledore smiled merrily at him. Severus thought he was going to be sick. 

"You can't be serious! Letting a _Vampire_ teach here? What would the student's families say if they knew?" 

"Relax, Severus. I have utter faith in Mr. Tomaren." Dumbledore placed a hand lightly on Tomaren's shoulder, and the Vampire smiled for the first time that Severus had seen, then ran a tongue over his teeth cheekily. 

"_How_ can you have faith in a _Vampire_?" was, in the end, all Severus could think to say to that. 

"Professor Lupin was a Werewolf, but he was a fine instructor. You must overcome your prejudices, Severus-" 

"I am not prejudiced, Albus! But … honestly! A Vampire? Lupin was a special case, he took the Wolfsbane potion. I may have not liked him, but that had little to do with the fact that he was a Werewolf and more to do with the fact that he almost _killed_ me." Severus belatedly spotted his wand, lying abandoned on the desk where he must've dropped it at some point during the struggle. He slipped it away, though he didn't like doing it. There was a moment where he hesitated, almost lost control and flung a curse at Tomaren. He probably would have, if Dumbledore hadn't been there. 

"Hold on a minute, you're comparing me to a Werewolf? I don't go all furry at the first sign of a full moon and tear people apart, alright? I am not a _beast_, dammit, I am a person-!" Tomaren glared indignantly at Severus. 

"Well, I wouldn't know, would I? According to 'Voyages with Vampires', they aren't much more than corpses with fangs," Severus explained, flinging the barb at Tomaren with zeal as he remembered almost being trampled by Tomaren in the corridor. 

Tomaren folded his arms across his chest. "Say that again, I dare you. Then you'll be finding out more than you ever wanted to know, firsthand." 

"Gentlemen, please," Dumbledore intervened, raising his hands palms out towards them. "Severus. I came looking for you because you missed our meeting time." 

Severus blinked. He'd completely forgotten; he was supposed to have a meeting with Dumbledore after classes were finished with. He'd been planning to let Dumbledore know he was going home for the weekend, and tell him about Lucius. "That's right. I completely forgot; I got caught up in restoring my office. And then I came here to confront Tomaren.." 

"I can see that. Severus, you need to understand: Malachai is an old friend of mine. That is why I trust him, because he had been an ally of mine for a good many years now. He came to me for assistance over the summer, and I helped him by giving him a safe place to stay here. 

'As you can imagine, being a Vampire as well as having lived so long has given Malachai plenty of knowledge and firsthand experience dealing with the Dark Arts, as well as having to defend himself. Vampires, like Werewolves, are feared, hated, and misunderstood. Though they have the happy difference of being able to control themselves." Dumbledore paused, to let all this sink in. "Malachai is, in effect, the perfect candidate for a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." 

Severus stared evenly at Tomaren. "So that is why you don't believe he broke into my office." 

Dumbledore nodded, giving Severus a probing glance over the top of his half moon spectacles. "Obviously, Malachai's true nature needed to be kept a secret. He is in hiding, Severus, and I would appreciate your support in this." 

Severus nodded gravely. "Of course, Albus," he agreed immediately, though he felt resentment taking root within him. 

"Now, Severus, if you would kindly follow me to my office? I know we have some things to discuss." 

Severus studied the wizened form of Albus Dumbledore, comparing it with the much younger - looking - form of the Vampire who had become "an old friend" to perhaps the greatest wizard alive. He simply nodded, but gave Tomaren a probing look as he stepped past him. They too had unfinished business, as far as he was concerned. Tomaren's narrowing eyes convinced him that the Vampire obviously felt the same way. 

He had many more questions for Albus about Tomaren; this subject was certainly not closed as far as he was concerned. He stared at the Vampire with unrestrained anger, more mad now than he had been before Dumbledore had enlightened him as to the situation. Moving past Tomaren as he headed for the door, he again remembered the slick fluid beneath his hands as he'd kissed… Oh, Merlin's balls. He'd kissed a Vampire. Severus looked down at his hands, and saw blood. 

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	6. Scheming

Another Year, Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 6: "Scheming" 

Summary: While Severus Snape certainly isn't the malignant boogeyman that most Hogwarts students percieve him to be, he's no saint either. While Severus Snape certainly is dedicated to the Order of the Poenix and its goals, he also has his own agenda. 

Warnings: this chapter is rated NC-17 for mansmut and language. If you're offended by the thought of man on man buggering, or hey, if you just don't like hearing people say 'fuck' a lot, you might want to go elsewhere. 

Pairing in this chapter: Lucius/Severus 

Author Notes: Again, big thank yous to everyone who's reviewed! I'm up to 20 now, I feel special! ...Even if most of them are demands for the next chapter because I suck at updating in a timely fashion. Oh, but this has been corrected! Chapter 7 will be posted one week from today, so expect it to be here promptly on Monday, July 5th! (11:00 am EST if you want to be picky) This is how I say thank you and apologise for my slow updates. ; 

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Severus stormed away from the eagle statue guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office in a rage. His black robes billowed out behind him as he strode purposefully towards the castle's exit, hands clenched in tight fists at his sides. His hair occasionally fell into his eyes, but the Potions master ignored it, blazing eyes fixed on an unseen point on the horizon. 

Bloody Malachai Tomaren and his smug Vampire face. He had Dumbledore's complete trust, and there was no way in Hades he should! It was all too clear to Severus throughout the meeting that the Headmaster was brushing him off. Even Dumbledore's assurances that his office theft was being looked into felt like an odd aside. Albus might as well have patted his head, handed him a sweet, and shoved him out the door for all the attention he gave to the situation. And if being brushed aside weren't bad enough, the next time he saw Albus, Tomaren would've told him about their confrontation, and he'd have a severe reprimand to look forward to. 

The only good thing was that they'd barely spoken about Lucius. Severus was much too furious over Tomaren to concentrate on anything else, and Albus had quickly given up on trying to talk about Death Eaters. Who could think about Death Eaters when there was an insufferable prick occupying the position he ought to have? A prick who broke into his office and stole his property and practically got rewarded for it by Dumbledore! 

Severus flew from the castle, not wishing to look at its walls for even a moment later. The corridors blurred together, he rushed by passing students and teachers alike with barely restrained contempt. He crossed the courtyard as a man pursued, and apparated as soon as he passed through the outer wards of the castle. 

The door to his house was merely an object blocking his path. He flung the opening charm from his lips and almost reached his front door before the spell, managing not to crash into the solid oak surface by the narrowest of margins. Outer robes were flung somewhere off to his left out of the foyer, and Severus didn't slow down until he reached the kitchen. 

More importantly, the liquor cabinet. There was an old bottle of scotch he kept in the back for exceptionally rotten days, and this definitely qualified. He brought it and a glass over to the dining table, standing behind a chair. 

As he poured himself a generous serving of the aged liquor, Severus wondered how it was that everything bad always happened to him. Almost killed by a werewolf, sucked into Lucius' inner circle and the Death Eaters, chewed up in Voldemort's quest for power, spit out into the Order of the Phoenix, and drawn _back_ into the Death Eaters as a spy. And now, a Vampire was causing havoc in his life just as things had seemed to be settling down. ..Lucius' sudden appearance didn't help things either. 

"Severus," Lucius breathed on cue, expelling warm air onto the back of Snape's neck. If Severus hadn't been so damn tired, he might've been more startled. As it was, all the surprise appearance of Lucius behind him did was earn the blonde a "Go away, Malfoy" for his efforts. 

"Malfoy?" Lucius repeated dubiously, sinking gracefully into a chair across the table from him, "You haven't greeted me with such icy regard since we were at school together." 

The comment brought to mind an image of sixteen year old Severus, all gangly limbs and a nose he had yet to grow into, uncombed hair clinging limply to his cheeks. Sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, barely touching his plate of food. Glaring incessantly at James Potter and Sirius Black at the next table over as they laughed and cavorted like baboons. And sixteen year old Lucius, already a paragon of perfection with shiny blonde hair and a perfectly proportioned body, watching him slyly. "A bit obsessed, aren't we?" the memory asked, as nosy as ever, and Severus' curt reply came, filled with teenage angst, "Go away, Malfoy." 

It did nothing to improve his mood. 

Severus declined comment, slumping into the chair and curling himself possessively around the glass of scotch as a predator protecting its hard-won meal. Black eyes flashed at Lucius, narrowed and serpentine, before he took a hearty drink. 

"My, my. Someone's in a rotten mood." 

Severus set the glass down, resenting Lucius for still existing, despite his vocal wishes to the contrary. "And your smug gittiness isn't helping," he growled. 

Lucius propped his chin elegantly in one palm, looking his longtime friend over with the smallest of smiles and one feathery brow arched. "Let's see.. no mere student could put you in this rotten state.. unless it was Potter?" 

Severus stared with determination at a point off in space. Perhaps if he just willed Lucius away.. 

"Hmm, not even a hiss. Not Potter then. Harry Potter." Still nothing from Severus. He elaborated. "Harry James Potter. Smug little famous child himself, a friend to every wizard. The Boy Who Can Do No Wrong." Still nothing? Incredible. That usually always got him. "Dumbledore's golden boy-" 

"I'll tell you who Dumbledore's golden boy really is," Severus suddenly growled, feeling the dark cloud over his head begin to rumble, "Malachai Bloody Tomaren, that's who. Potter's got nothing on that bastard." Severus' gaze darted back to Lucius as he felt what he thought was definitely a well-deserved rant coming on. 

The sudden glint of acknowledgment in Lucius' clear blue eyes stopped him, though. Lucius wet his lips in anticipation, raising his head off his hand. 

"I heard that name today." 

Severus' eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Where?" he asked, though that was rather a dumb question, considering. Where was the only place Lucius would've gone today besides here? 

"From the Dark Lord's own lips," Lucius began, ducking his head in an automatic gesture of reverence. 

Voldemort. Well, he would have to come up eventually, wouldn't he? As much as Severus enjoyed pretending the man didn't exist. But this was very interesting. Albus had mentioned that Malachai needed his assistance, had practically admitted to giving Tomaren the job just so he would have a safe haven at Hogwarts. 

"What did our Lord say?" Severus asked, suddenly feeling breathless. His scotch was momentarily forgotten, and he placed both hands on the table in front of him, leaning forward towards Lucius. 

Lucius' smile was filled with razor blades. "He has been looking for Mister Tomaren for quite some time now... You see, Vampires aren't that easy to find, even when one has the resources that our Lord does." Lucius was obviously waiting for that to sink in, waiting for the explosion that would come with such damning news. 

Severus just nodded and answered with no small amount of wry cynicism, "Unless you're me, apparently." 

"You knew?" Lucius almost looked astonished. 

"Found out today," Severus muttered, nodding. "He broke into my office before I arrived at the school, stole a very powerful magical item, and almost attacked me when I confronted him about it later." Well, that was the short version, but the only one Lucius needed. "I saw the bloody fangs myself." 

Lucius looked angry. His hands were bunching into fists, and he looked desperate to hit something. Surprised, for a moment Severus thought he was going to lash out at _him_. 

"Wonderful. I am so glad Draco is going to school in such a secure environment, where Vampires are allowed to teach." 

Surely he hadn't been surprised. No, Severus sensed this was residual anger. He wondered how close Lucius had been to blowing his cover, marching into the school, and demanding to pull his son out of classes. 

"I can't say I blame you, as a parent." Severus added. He'd wondered how long it would be before Lucius' precious son came up, and was rather surprised it had taken this long. He'd been expecting one of Lucius' first concerns, when escaping the prison, to be for Draco when the media got a hold of the news. "He's alright, though," Severus added, softer, "I had him today in Potions and he seemed not to have a care in the world." 

Lucius nodded, the color fading from his cheeks as he relaxed some. "As it should be. I regret not being able to contact him, of course.." 

"You can't, Lucius-" 

"I _know_ that, Severus." Lucius snapped, "Not while he's in school. But I swear, the first holiday break, I will reclaim him. His place is with his father." 

"Of course," Severus responded automatically, filing this information away to be given to Dumbledore. Steps would have to be taken to ensure that this would never happen. Severus would no sooner give Draco over to the Death Eaters than cut off his own arm. 

Lucius cleared his throat, sitting back from the table and crossing his arms. "But that has little to do with what I was saying earlier, about Mister Tomaren. As I was saying, our Lord is most interested in meeting him. From what he said, this is a very powerful and influential Vampire, and He wishes to gain their support." 

Severus nodded quickly. That's what they'd been doing last summer, too. Looking for support among the non-wizard races. More of the same old things. ..But if Voldemort wanted to try and convert Tomaren to his side, was that why he was in hiding? "How certain is our Lord that He can attain this support?" 

Lucius waved a hand, his posture beginning to relax once more. "We have a trump card there. Tomaren's haven in America had become compromised; he had hunters on his trail. He was practically driven into Europe, and has now landed on our Lord's doorstep." 

"Really," Severus commented, his interest growing by the moment. "Would it be foolish of me to ask how we knew of this?" 

Lucius gave Severus a wry smile, "Our Lord has secretly had agents seeking him out for months. We gave his position away to the hunters. According to our sources, Malachai is a wily character, so our Lord thought it best to use the hunters to herd him into an advantageous position for us. If he's on the run, in need of allies.." Lucius made a 'fill in the blank' gesture with one hand. 

"Was his position in such matters so ambiguous?" Severus asked, wondering how important gaining the Vampires' favor could really be. 

"Well, Vampires tend to stay out of Wizarding politics, of course. They aren't normally associated with Wizards at all; even though some were once Wizards before becoming Vampires, it is assumed that they keep to themselves when it comes to the Wizarding world." 

"So the Vampires are considered to be a potentially advantageous ally of our cause," Severus summed up, "and our Lord had hoped to position Malachai to come in contact with us when he needed powerful allies.. but it seems that no one was expecting Hogwarts to intercept him first." 

Lucius blanched at that. "No, no one was. Our Lord was most displeased when he heard of that." 

Severus suddenly had a thought. He'd mentioned Tomaren to Lucius only yesterday. "Were you the one to tell Him that?" 

Shaking his head, Lucius seemed relieved. "No, and I am glad I wasn't present during our Lord's anger over that bit of information. But that was the greater part of my meeting with Him today- what to do now Tomaren is there. We cannot approach him while he's on school grounds, of course. Our Lord wanted me to tell you to watch him, actually. We need to find out if and when he leaves the castle grounds, and then we need to approach him carefully. Does Dumbledore know?" 

"That he's a Vampire? Oh, he knows. He spoke of Tomaren needing our protection - so I assume he knows about the hunters, as well." Severus made a sour face. He doubted Tomaren would want to join Voldemort's side if he was already good friends with Albus. 

Lucius frowned. "That makes things more difficult. You say he broke into your office and then attacked you. Could that be grounds for having him fired?" 

"I don't think so," Severus sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. "Dumbledore didn't believe that he broke into my office, and I would hesitate to bring up my confrontation with him-" partially because Severus had been responsible for it, but Lucius didn't need to know that, "-so I doubt it." 

A hand snaked out and stole Severus' scotch. Smirking, Severus watched Lucius drink it down. "Fabulous. Stupid old twit," Lucius muttered dryly. "Then we're going to have to get him off castle grounds and take him to Voldemort." 

"What if he cannot be coerced into giving our Lord his support?" 

Lucius arched a brow. "After our Lord has spent such time and energy in this project? If he cannot be coerced, or forced somehow... then he'll be killed." 

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"Oh Lucius, Merlin, yes - fuck me," Severus groaned, his voice partially muffled by the leather couch under his cheek. Severus was vaguely aware of a couch arm under his abdomen, of his hands gripping the leather cushion tightly, and of a delicious buggering feeling in his ass. Lucius' hot cock slammed into him again and again, filling him with the greatest pleasure he could ever recall feeling - though that might've just been the scotch talking. Between the two of them, they'd emptied his twelve-year aged bottle, and another bottle that wasn't nearly as old, and the next thing Severus knew, their clothes were missing and Lucius' dick was being presented to him urgently. 

He had no sense of time, no idea of how long they'd been at it, but he never wanted it to end. The pleasure was so intense.. his climax was just out of reach. He wanted it closer, and yet.. and yet.. "Nnng. Feels so good," he mumbled, eyes squeezing shut. 

Behind him, Lucius rutted fiercely, swearing in drunken slurs, hips slamming into the cheeks of Severus' ass. "Yes.. filthy whore.. nothing but a filthy little mudblood.." 

Severus' eyes opened. A few seconds of sobriety gripped him, long enough for him to wonder, "..th fuck are you calling mudblood.. bloody fruitcake.." But Lucius had a moment of good fortune, hitting Severus' prostate several times in succession, and Severus was breaking through some unseen barrier, hips pistoning against the feeling of cool leather, splattering his seed against the side of the couch. 

As he began to calm, he felt Lucius speed up, babbling obscenities about mudbloods and whores as he emptied himself inside the Potions master. As soon as Lucius pulled out, Severus crawled forward so he was fully on the couch with Lucius not far behind him. The blonde latched onto his back as he settled into a comfortable position, and the two found sleep almost instantly. 

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"Get your hand out of my face," Lucius growled, waking Severus as he swatted the offending limb out of the way. Severus opened his eyes, immediately noticing a weight on his back and a stinging pain in his hand. His first coherent thought was wondering what time it was. His second was wondering how to get the annoying weight off of his back before his lungs exploded. 

"You're all dead weight when you're drunk." 

"I am not drunk. Anymore." Lucius groused, slapping Severus on the ass. 

"Merlin! That was uncalled for. You aren't hung over, are you?" 

"It'd take a lot more than that to make me hung over," Lucius assured. 

"So you're just grumpy in the morning." 

"It's not morning, Severus. It's one a.m." 

"Ah. That answers my first question. Do you mind terribly getting off me so I don't die?" 

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T.B.C. 


	7. Photographs

Another Year Another DADA Professor 

Chapter 7: "Photographs" 

Disclaimer: As I have stated before, I do not own Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, or any other related characters, situations and entities - JKR and Warner Bros do. All I own is the idea and the OC, Malachai Tomaren. And I am not making any money off of this story. 

Author notes: Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading, and to everyone who's reviewed. I really do appreciate it so much, which is why you only had to wait a week for chapter 7! I can't promise the same for chapter 8, but I'm setting myself that same goal, so I promise it won't be another month in between updates. I can do better, really! 

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The weekend had been filled with plotting and scheming - and sex. Severus was quite happy to get Tomaren out of the school and out of the way - and no he wasn't feeling the least bit guilty nor remorseful for potentially sending the man to his death. He knew that Tomaren wouldn't be helping out the Death Eaters by choice, so there was very little risk that the Vampires would be joining Voldemort, and thus he wouldn't be causing any problems by aiding Lucius. 

There was the little concern of what Dumbledore would do if he found out Severus was aiding the Death Eaters in capturing Tomaren - but since Albus didn't seem to realize Voldemort's schemes, there was a good chance he wouldn't find out anyway. They had decided that once Tomaren was gone, it would have to look as though he'd intended to leave. 

They'd have to clear out his rooms, maybe even leave a note spelled to be in his handwriting. He hadn't decided on what the note would say yet. Maybe something as simple as 'the hunters are after me, I'll contact you later, can't put the school in danger' etcetera, etcetera. Something noble that would appeal to Albus. Then Dumbledore would think nothing of it when Tomaren didn't show up again. Maybe eventually, a few years down the road, he'd assume the hunters had gotten him. 

There was a good chance he'd be dead, anyway, unless he just decided to join Voldemort. Who knew. The Vampire might change his mind, when faced with death. Many people had before him. And even if he did, Severus told himself, Tomaren might not end up being that much of an asset to Voldemort as the Death Eaters thought. What could creatures who weren't even Wizards really do when faced with real magic? Just because Tomaren _had_ been a Wizard, and had known magic, didn't necessarily mean that he could still perform it, no longer being human. What did that leave him with? Blood magic - could that really compete? Severus convinced himself that it couldn't. And if he could do magic - well, so what? Malachai wasn't all-powerful. Even if he had proved adept at Occulmancy, Severus had still gotten through his mental defenses. That proved he wasn't invulnerable. 

It was now Monday night. Tomaren and some students from his advanced Defense class were in the Great Hall, while the Professor was doing some sort of demonstration. This was that thing that the Gryffindor trio had been so anxious to witness. Severus hadn't caught the details, only that he'd be there for an hour and Albus would also be in attendance. The perfect time for Severus to do some snooping. 

The irony was not lost on Severus. Here he was, sneaking down to Tomaren's quarters (which turned out to be not far from his own, deep in the dungeons - one would assume because there was no chance of exposure to sunlight) with the intent to break in, just as Tomaren had done to him. After some brainstorming, it was decided that the only thing that would have to bring Tomaren out of the castle was the search for blood. Severus' job tonight was to sneak into Tomaren's room and look for clues as to his feeding habits. Did he keep blood handy, or did he have to go hunt every time he needed it? Earlier he'd gone down to the kitchens under the pretense of pilfering a snack, keeping the house elf attending him busy while he peeked into the cold food storage to see if blood was being kept for him, and his search had turned up nothing. Hopefully that meant he'd find something here. 

Severus had done a bit of breaking and entering before on behalf of the Order, so he had some door lock charm breakers already memorized for the occasion. It was a bit of a let down when Tomaren's door opened after the first one. 

Half expecting to be greeted with a room swathed in velvets and dominated by a black coffin, Severus crept inward, closing the door behind him. He was again disappointed. The decor was very minimalist- in fact, there was no decor. The walls were bare, the floor was bare. There were two cabinets, unadorned and plain. One bed, with wrought iron posts and white bedding that looked recently bought and rarely slept in. Severus was expecting bizarre dead animal trophies, perhaps a few skulls with elongated fangs.. maybe a shrunken head or two. The bedside stand had no lamp; there were no books.. though it did have a photograph, in a cheap wooden frame. 

Approaching quietly, Severus studied the picture. Two men were its focus, both looking to be in their twenties. It was black and white and a bit grainy, but Severus recognized Tomaren, staring intently at the camera, his robes black and old fashioned. The Vampire didn't move in the picture as pictures tended to do, just stood staring straight ahead, unblinking, not even breathing. The man on his left, on the other hand, had the little movements of life about him. His robes were more modern, in fact the style was quite popular today, so the picture must've been recent. He stared at Tomaren, smiling, occasionally moving his head or touching the Vampire lightly on the arm as if to catch his attention. The young man leaned forward, supporting himself against the Vampire, his cheek resting against the still shoulder. 

Tomaren's image continued to stare straight ahead as if scrutinizing Severus. 

Slightly unnerved by the picture Tomaren's odd behavior, Severus moved away. Belatedly, he noticed the Siamese curled up on the bed, the top of its little head just peeking up over a mound of white blankets that had been bunched up. Closer inspection told that the cat was asleep, not that it really mattered. Though Severus wasn't too keen on getting attacked, should the cat remember his less than warm treatment of it. 

Severus spotted a desk past the bed and made his way over quickly. It was bare on top aside from a stack of student's papers, but he opened the drawers, hoping to find anything of interest. Quills, mostly. Bottles of ink. A stack of more black and white photographs, tied with ribbon. There were receipts, scattered everywhere, crumpled as if hastily pulled from pockets. Receipts for robes, parchment, ink, quills, a chest of drawers, a picture frame, bed linen.. a person's entire possessions were here in receipts. Dumbledore and Lucius said he'd been on the run.. had Tomaren arrived in England with nothing but the robes on his back and a stack of old photographs? 

Severus looked at the photographs and thought about picking them up, but hesitated. It just seemed so.. strange.. to think of something like a Vampire wanting its picture taken. It made Tomaren seem almost ..human. And yes, of course, Severus knew that technically Tomaren was part human - or he'd been fully human before he'd become a Vampire. But still. Vampires didn't keep stacks of photographs in Severus' world. Yet this one did. 

Severus picked up the stack finally, deciding that he just had to know if Tomaren looked the same in all the pictures. He slid the first one out of the ribbon. Again it was black and white, and Tomaren's robes looked old fashioned, though his companion in the picture was wearing modern ones. In fact, it appeared to be the same twentysomething man from the first picture. Severus blinked as Tomaren glared fiercely at the camera, then gave a little grin and turned to his companion. Well, this picture of Tomaren moved. In fact.. ah. The two men were kissing now. Severus felt like a bit of a voyeur, watching them in such an intimate embrace. It seemed the camera had captured an incredibly tender moment. 

Vampires weren't supposed to have those, either. Severus remembered the memory he'd wrestled from Tomaren's mind: the bestial, consuming hunger and the pain it brought had seemed to encompass Tomaren's whole world. He hadn't seemed like a creature who'd be smiling and kissing and making silly eyes at anyone. And look, on top of that, apparently he was gay. Not that it mattered of course.. though now he couldn't help wondering how that kiss he'd planted on Tomaren had been interpreted. Afterwards it was probably seen for the distractive tactic that it was, but was it making Tomaren wonder? He didn't want the other man _wondering_ about him. 

With a grimace, he put the photographs back. Severus was careful not to knock anything out of place as he rearranged them, then slid the desk drawer closed. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Without any other personal artifacts to see, it was hard to gauge much more than Tomaren's sexual preference. There were no other clues as to his personality, really. What did white bed sheets tell you except that apparently he cared very little about what kind of bed sheets he bought? Even the cabinets in the room were plain, brown, cheaply varnished. Only one of the photographs he'd bothered to frame. The room spoke of haste and little care for his surroundings. There was nothing that looked like Tomaren had spent time thinking about. No other personal artifacts, just a bed, two plain cabinets, a desk, and one framed picture. 

Severus moved back over to the picture, staring at it. It was so odd that Tomaren didn't so much as blink.. there. The image of Tomaren had just tilted his head towards his companion. That was something, at least. Severus glanced back to the cat, just to make sure it was still asleep. It was. 

But that was another thing, wasn't it? Something personal. He had a cat. One he apparently hadn't even named himself. They were going to have to dispose of the cat, too. Severus didn't really like that idea; killing helpless animals really didn't make him feel good about himself, but it would have to disappear and he wasn't keen on keeping it. 

The cabinets were Severus' last stop. He reached a hand out, holding it first in front of one and then the other, feeling for traces of cold. He wasn't entirely sure how one would keep blood, except it would have to be kept cold or it would .. well, go bad. There. The second was chilly to the touch. It had two doors that opened outward in opposite directions, so he took one handle and pulled, but it didn't budge. Locked, but there was no space for a key. In fact, a symbol was painted next to the handle, one Severus didn't recognize, in a thick reddish brown liquid. Two guesses as to what the liquid was. 

Severus tried the charm breaker he'd used on the door. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried another charm breaker, one used more commonly when written symbols were employed in the original locking charm. The drawn symbol glowed green for one moment, and then the doors swung open. Severus smiled. 

A breath of frost assaulted him as the cabinet's contents were revealed. Inside were a few rows of shelves. On the shelves were small, earthenware pots, each hand labeled with tags in a hasty, spidery scrawl. Severus picked one up to read it. 

_Hogsmeade - Witch approx. 30 yrs - 1 pint_

Severus blinked. Was that mild disgust he was feeling? How did he _get_ the witch's blood into the pot? _"Excuse me please ma'am, but would you mind terribly holding your wrist, which I just bit, open over this pot? Careful now, don't want to drip."_

And he'd measured it. Severus flipped the tag over. According to the date on the back, he'd collected it over the weekend. He checked the other pots. They were all labeled in the same fashion, where he'd collected from, male or female, wizard or muggle, approximate age, and how much the pot held. There were five in total, all with dates from the weekend on them, all from Hogsmeade. In the bottom of the cabinet were a few more empty pots. 

It made sense. It wasn't like Tomaren could just leave any time he wanted to go feed. But this was so.. sickeningly organized. Well, truthfully, the mild distaste he'd first felt had faded, so it wasn't literally making him sick.. but that wasn't the point. The point was that it was planned out. He'd collected extra blood so he didn't have to worry about his next meal, labeled it so he knew exactly where it had come from and when it had been gathered, and could ration it so he would theoretically never need to go hungry, providing he could eventually replenish his stock. Severus wondered how much a Vampire needed. One pot a night? Only five were filled, and this was Monday, so apparently not. 

Well, alright. Here was the blood. Since he couldn't predict when Tomaren would need to get more, and there was apparently currently plenty for at least the week, Severus was going to have to dump it. That would force Tomaren to go hunting much sooner, and he could alert Lucius to have the Death Eaters waiting. 

The only problem with this was that Tomaren would know exactly who had done it. Who else would have cause to break into his room and sabotage his food supply? Then again, Severus thought, it might not be such a bad thing for Tomaren to know he did it. Turnabout was fair play, as the saying went. 

This would be messy if he didn't take care, but some haste was necessary because a glance at his watch told him it was swiftly approaching nine o'clock, and then Tomaren would be done with his demonstration. Severus had to be far away by then. Severus grabbed a pot in each hand, and headed for the only other door in Tomaren's room, which had to lead to the bathroom. 

It did. He headed over to the sink, set the jars down, then pulled the lids off the tops and dumped them into the basin. He watched a moment in odd fascination as blood poured down thick over the white porcelain, then turned on the tap and washed it down. He even rinsed out the pots before taking them back and placing them just as they'd been, and carefully grabed the last three. 

On his second trip, something small darted out under his feet. A bit of quick footwork, and he managed to avoid tripping or dropping the jars, but it was now clear the cat was awake. He got the jars to the counter next to the sink just as the Siamese leapt with boneless grace onto the ledge, slinking behind the jars. It hissed at him, ears folding back, back arching, delicate fangs bared. Severus reached over the jars to push it off as he'd done the other day, but this time the cat seemed to be ready for him. 

As soon as his hand got anywhere near, it flipped onto its back and sunk all four sets of claws into his arm. The two front paws had his hand, and the back had his arm - claws sinking into his forearm as if he wasn't even wearing long sleeves. "Fuck," Severus swore, trying to shake the cat off without knocking over the jars. It bit down onto the backs of his knuckles, kicking with its back legs. 

It was like being punched with little needles. Cursing again, he pulled his arm off, in hopes of dislodging the cat, but it dug its claws in again and managed to hold on. Severus was shaking his arm now, drawing it away from the jars - the cat was still hanging on, a good four feet above the ground. It was howling its anger, but its grip was loosening as Severus shook his arm around, stomping his foot and trying to suppress garbled obscenities as it continued to bite. He spun around, shaking his arm counterpoint, and the cat lost its back legs. Before it could regain its footing, he swung his arm down and to one side as hard as he could. The cat let out one more angry wail in protest, then lost its grip completely and hit the ground, taking off just as Severus' foot was searching for a soft place to kick. 

Severus searched the floor for signs of the cat, but it had apparently disappeared into the other room. Sighing, he rolled his sleeve up to survey the damage. Angry red lines crisscrossed puncture wounds all over his hand, though his forearm hadn't faired so badly. There were still puncture wounds that were bleeding a little. "Bloody animal.. and to think I was feeling bad for you a moment ago," he muttered, then rinsed his arm under the tap. He dried it off on his robes, then upended the last three pots into the sink and rinsed everything out again. The sink still looked a bit pink, so Severus used a simple cleaning charm to finish up. 

As soon as he walked back into the room with the now empty pots, Severus saw a brown blur, and then felt needles in his leg. "Bloody cat!" he shouted, shaking his leg as best he was able. He must've got lucky, because it dropped onto its back, then righted itself with a flip and darted off again. "Come near me one more time and I'll use an Unforgivable, don't think I won't!" he shouted, though really what the point was of threatening a cat he didn't know. He wouldn't really use the Cruciatus on a cat.. but he wouldn't mind kicking Tomaren's Siamese at this point. 

Severus finally got the pots back into their right places, congratulating himself on managing not to break anything, and got the cabinet closed again. He couldn't re-lock it, because he had no idea what kind of spell had done that in the first place, but oh well. It would've been more fun to think that Tomaren wouldn't notice anything wrong until he actually opened a pot and found it empty, but this would do. 

He just wondered how long it would be before he got a visit from the unhappy Vampire. Of course, Tomaren didn't strike him as the type who liked confrontations of any kind, from the way he'd previously acted. But then he had been ready to fight once Severus had backed him into a corner. 

Severus realized he was actually looking forward to finding out. The thought of revenge made him smile. Now it was time to go back to his quarters and use the Floo to let Lucius know how things had gone, and that Tomaren would be making a trip to Hogsmeade shortly. 

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Much later that night, the Potions Master was awakened in the dark of his room to a weight on his upper body. He shifted in bed, but the weight would not leave. In fact, it got heavier the more he moved. Half asleep, he finally opened his eyes. It was pitch black, without the slightest bit of light to be found anywhere, but somehow he just _knew_ he was staring into someone's face. 

His cry of alarm was clamped off firmly by a hand covering his mouth and nose. Now, Severus might not have been trained very much at combat, but he wasn't going to flail and scream for help. He gathered his thoughts quickly while trying not to panic because his air supply had been cut off, then shot a hand out for the bedside table to grab his wand. The hand moved from his mouth and caught his wrist while a familiar voice whispered, "_Lumos_." 

Severus stared up into a pale, young face and bright blue eyes. "Looking for this, Professor?" Malachai asked, and Severus noticed that it was his wand the Vampire was holding, its tip glowing faintly. 

Snarling, Severus reached for it, but Tomaren sat back, his weight settled firmly onto the Potions master's stomach, and held it out of reach. The Vampire tisked gently. "Nuh uh. You don't need it, don't be silly. _Nox_," he murmured. The room was again dark. 

Then Tomaren tossed the wand out of sight. It landed with a faint sound off in the distance somewhere. Far away from the bed, at any rate. 

"How dare you-" 

"How dare _I_? How dare you?" Tomaren leaned down again, which Severus could only feel, now that sight had left him again. 

"Breaking into my room? Sabotaging my food supply? How petty." 

"Just returning the favor," Severus growled. His other hand shot up, but was instantly caught and pinned against the bed like its fellow. 

The strength in the arms that pinned him was amazing; made him feel as helpless as a child. Severus was in his thirties, for Merlin's sake. He did not enjoy that particular feeling at all. He strained against his captor, but the Vampire might as well have been made from iron, for all the good it did him. 

"Trust you to wait until I was asleep to retaliate," Severus snarled, still attempting to shift Tomaren, as pointless as it seemed. 

"Yes, well us Vampires are sneaky and underhanded, you know. Quite a lot like Slytherins, from what I've observed here." There was a mocking tone in his words that Severus didn't like. 

"Except of course that I'm not an undead git," was unfortunately the first thing that popped out of Severus' mouth. 

Tomaren just chuckled. "I'll forgive you your lack of wit. It's late, I suppose, and you _did_ just wake up." 

"What does wit have to do with anything?" Severus half-shouted out of frustration - though honestly that comeback was not a very good one, "I've got a Vampire on my chest, holding me prisoner in my bed. I should think that making clever witticisms is the last thing I need worry about at this point." 

"Oh, lighten up, Severus," Tomaren replied, as if it were all in good fun. There was little hope of that, though, not with the predatory growl in his voice. 

"Is there a point to this interruption, or did you just sneak in here to lecture me about my sense of humor?" the Potions master groused, so caught off guard that he didn't even notice Tomaren had used his first name. 

"Oh yes, right. Back to the intimidating. Boo, I'm a scary Vampire. How's that?" 

Severus blinked in the darkness. He was _not_ hearing this. "You are perverse." He tried his wrists again, but they were still held tight. 

"Fine, you want me to get down to the point? I will. I wanted a little midnight snack, you see, but since _someone_ broke in, harassed my cat, and discarded all my food so very rudely, I didn't have anything. So I thought to myself, I know, I'll go see the little bastard responsible. Not that I'm complaining about that. You have a very comfortable stomach, and warm blood is so much preferable to the cold stuff." 

Severus fought to remember how to breathe in the ensuing silence. "I think I liked you a lot better when you acted timid and scared around me." 

"I spent my whole mortal life being timid and scared," Tomaren lamented with a note of regret, "But when I became a Vampire, I finally had the tools with which to stand up for myself. Besides, we Vampires are predators. It's not in our nature to be timid." 

"Apparently not." Severus muttered dryly, thinking back to when Tomaren held him down and bared his fangs, just inches from his face. 

"Well, you pissed me off, sunshine." Apparently Tomaren was thinking of the same thing. What was this, a sarcastic term of endearment? Not only a Vampire, oh no, it was like Tomaren was being American just to spite him. 

"_Bloody_ Americans." 

"Fuckin Brits." 

"Oh shut it." 

"I don't think you're in any position to demand anything of me," Tomaren reminded him with a soft tone that was almost oddly tender. 

Severus felt something wet on his cheek. In a moment of horrid clarity, he realized it was a tongue. "Get off of me!" 

"Too late for that. I'm here for something, and I'm going to take it." 

"I will go to the Headmaster about this-" 

"No you won't, sunshine. Because if you do, I'll tell him about your earlier use of Legillimency against an unsuspecting Professor and that you broke into my quarters and sabotaged my food supply. And if that isn't enough, I could always throw sexual harassment in there, too." 

"What?" Severus asked, shocked. 

"When you kissed me, sunshine." 

"Stop calling me that! Do you think it would really matter? You'd still get fired for you part in all of it, including attacking a Professor in his quarters at night!" 

"Yeah, but you'd get fired too. If you went down with me, well that'd be worse, wouldn't it? I'll probably only be here for the year. You, on the other hand, this is your _career_." 

Severus stayed silent. He knew it was true. His actions had been entirely unprofessional. Merlin, if Severus were the one making the Headmaster's decision, he'd fire himself too. Before he could say anything else, however, Tomaren's head was pushing into the space where his neck and shoulder joined, and the Vampire's tongue was drawing a bulls eye on his skin. The weight moved off him and settled nearby, so their bodies were still touching in a line down his side. 

He thought it would be painful, but when the fangs sunk into his skin, a very different feeling assaulted him. Oh yes, there was a little pain, a small stinging sensation, but it was swept to the back of his mind as ecstasy leapt at him. Then the pain turned into pleasure, and grew as he felt lips clamping down around the wound. The fangs were still pleasantly embedded in his skin, but he could actually _feel_ the blood being drawn out of the wound. 

Severus knew it was illogical. He knew it had to be some part of the Vampire's innate magic that was causing him to feel pleasure instead of pain. He knew that the pleasure that bolted in a straight line for his groin had to merely be an induced sensation so that the Vampire's victim wouldn't try to fight - not that it would've done much good. Even though he hadn't known this before, he understood that this was why he was feeling the way he was. He'd always liked a little pain now and again during sex, but it wasn't that. That was what was so strange, in fact. It didn't hurt, and even if he was going to feel pleasure too, it should be hurting badly. Instead, it felt wonderful. This, he thought, this was bliss. 

But knowing that it didn't feel right didn't help matters any. It didn't stop his thoughts from melting away, his brain from turning to utter mush. And it couldn't stop the raging hard on he was getting. He gasped for air in a desperate attempt to clear his head from the assault of pleasure on his neurons, but it did no good. The weight on his wrists, being restrained as Lucius so often enjoyed doing to him, only added to his arousal. Pleasure was flooding every available sensation.. it was like being drugged. Anywhere his skin came in contact with anything, it felt wonderful. The sheets were like the finest silk against his arms and legs, his nightshirt caressed the rest of his skin like a thousand gentle fingers. But it wasn't nearly enough, not over his quickly hardening prick. 

If only he had a hand free! It needed contact so badly, and there was nothing he could do. A wordless groan escaped his lips, and he shut his eyes because there wasn't anything to see anyway. He only wanted to feel. More, he thought freverently. More and more and more he wanted, until he would explode from it. And only that would be a satisfactory end. "Fuck," came his strangled whisper, and embarrassment flooded him. If this was what happened every time Vampires bit someone, then Tomaren had to know what he was feeling right now. 

Severus slowly realized that Tomaren's hands had moved, and his right hand was not in fact pinned anymore. Not only that, but that pressure settling over the blankets directly above his throbbing cock wasn't coming from one of _his_ hands. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Merlin," he moaned, unable to stop himself. The pressure left, and then something was sliding down under the sheets, over his belly, down his legs. Something was dragging his nightshirt up, and wrapping itself around his cock. One of Tomaren's hands. 

He felt a great ache as the fangs slid out of his skin and the feeling of blood being pulled out of his veins receded. "No," was on his lips, barely whispered but still there, to his great dismay. 

He'd hoped that when Tomaren stopped feeding, his erection would go away. But now he'd never know, because a hand was pulling it, slow enough to be teasing and rough enough to keep his interest. Severus thrust his hips up into the hand, felt soft hair brush his cheeks as the weight next to him shifted. "Merlin, yes," he groaned as Tomaren's thumb rubbed over his slit, spreading pre-come over the head. 

Every little movement was felt ten times more strongly than it by all rights should've been. Every touch set him aflame, every stroke was the brink of orgasm. Within what felt like seconds he was coming, exploding, erupting into Tomaren's hand. The Vampire threw the blankets back and raised his hand with its sticky white prize up away into the darkness. 

Severus' eyes, he found, had adjusted to the darkness somewhat. Enough that dimly he knew the hand with his semen was near Tomaren's face, and that face was moving slightly as it apparently examined its prize. 

"What are you doing?" Severus asked hoarsely, finding his throat too thick somehow. He had horrible thoughts that Tomaren was going to bottle his semen and use it in some dark ritual. Then in nine days he'd drop dead in the middle of telling Harry Potter his potion looked like crap. 

"Dessert," Tomaren intoned huskily. 

"You are not serious." Severus muttered as his thoughts struggled to reorganize themselves. 

"Why do you have such a hard time believing that I'm serious all the time? The chemical makeup of sperm is almost exactly the same as that of blood." 

There was rustling, movement, and from what little Severus could see Tomaren was stretching out next to him. Like the cat who'd swallowed the canary. Well. Maybe 'canary' wasn't the right word. 

Clarity was slowly descending upon him again, washing away the murky areas of his brain. It was met with some resistance, as if it wasn't meant to happen so soon. Maybe Severus' intense desire to be more angry at the situation was helping his mind clear so quickly. "You're telling me that you actually gain.. nourishment from sperm." 

"Sure. Not very much, but enough for it to be fun." The tone was lazy and egotistical, as if this were something to be proud of. 

As the clouds left his brain, Severus felt a moment of hilarity hit him. "You must be a big hit with gay men." 

"You tell me." 

Severus found, much to his annoyance, that he didn't have anything to say to that. So he changed the subject, trying to will away the lethargy that was all too soon settling within him. Obviously he was still supposed to be feeling fuzzy and warm. Thank Merlin that wasn't ever something he was used to feeling. "Well, you've had your revenge. Isn't it about time you were skulking back to your own chambers?" 

"Mm. I'm wallowing in post-feeding contentment, here. Can't you stop talking for two minutes?" 

"You just came in here, took my blood without permission, forced me to have an orgasm-" That earned an incredulous snort, "-and now you want to lay down and cuddle like we're bleeding lovers?!" This was beyond Severus. He ought to jump out of bed, grab his wand, and Obliviate the bastard all the way back to America. Only he'd just had the best orgasm of his life and couldn't, at the moment, be arsed to. 

"Who said anything about cuddling? You're so pointy I'd be likely to stab myself on a hip bone. Or that great stork beak on your face." 

That was the limit. No one insulted Severus' nose and lived. "Get the bloody fuck out of my bed right now, you vein sucking arsehead." 

"Ooh, one I haven't heard before. Poor Severus, I know how unhappy you must be to have just had an orgasm. That really gets me down, too." Severus got the distinct impression that Malachai - smug undead git that he was - was highly amused by all of this. 

He made things sound so simple. Bastard. "Stop calling me Severus-" 

"Are you kidding? I ate your sperm. I should be able to call you whatever the hell I want now, sunshine." 

Severus was very Not In The Mood. "No calling me sunshine!" he protested, feeling like a helpless child. 

"Alright, Severus." 

"You are insufferable." 

"But you like it." 

The man was delusional. "What? I hate you." 

"Ok, but you liked the orgasm." 

That was not the point! "I thought this was supposed to be revenge!" Or maybe the revenge was that he'd just refuse to shut up. 

"It was; it's obvious how much you hate me, but I got you to come. Not only that, it'll never be that good again unless it's with me." 

"Bit full of yourself, don't you think?" Severus asked scornfully. 

"Yeah." More shifting. The Vampire sat up, looking down at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go coax the cat out from under the bed and get some sleep before classes in the morning." 

"I don't care. Get out." 

And he did. When the door closed behind Malachai, his long silhouette briefly framed in the doorway by the dim light from the hall, Severus let out a sigh. Then he rousted himself from the bed and got his wand. Merlin. There was no way he'd be getting any more sleep tonight. 

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	8. Regret

Another Year, Another DADA Professor

Chapter 8, "Regret"

Summary: In which Severus Snape doth verily hit Malachai Tomaren over the head with a big mallot... Actually, no. That's what Sev would do if he were writing the story. BUT HE'S NOT!

A/N: LOOK - it hasn't been a month since my last update! See? I told ya I was getting better.. (grinning)

There's some Blaise/Draco in this chappie for all you ravenous B/D shippers out there.. me included. w00t!

Thank you to all who have reviewed.. the reviews keep me motivated to finish the story, so the more I get, the faster chapter 9 will come out.. mwa ha ha ha ha! Also, my beta, killer-the-cat, has helped me a lot by letting me bounce ideas off her and also offering some of her own. Thank you!!!!

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The next morning dawned a beautiful autumn day over Hogwarts. The leaves on the trees were a myriad rainbow of reds, yellows and oranges, the air was crisp but still warm enough to keep anyone's breath from frosting over, and the sun was bright and fuzzy in the sky.

Down in the castle's bowels, however, Severus Snape saw none of this, and wasn't the least bit disappointed about it either. He was surrounded by cold, damp stone, and it suited him well. Especially today. Gone were what ever had been left of last night's enchantments, and with it the sleep that had claimed him almost against his will. The Morning After was fully upon him now, and his mind was filled with confused thoughts that even a hot bath would not wash away.

Severus hated Malachai Tomaren. Deep down, he feared him a little, too. But now.. now that Tomaren had been clearly defined as an enemy, now that he'd proved himself just as evil as any Death Eater, Severus felt he knew a little better how to handle him.

There was the small fact that he never wanted to see that damnable Vampire again, but since that wasn't an option, he was just going to have to deal with him. That meant getting him out of Hogwarts as quickly as possible, and hoping that when Voldemort sent Tomaren to the chopping block, Severus would be the one holding the axe.

He flooed Lucius at his house and told him what had happened, up till the point where he left the Vampire's chambers. The important thing was to make sure the Death Eaters would be ready for Tomaren when he went a-hunting in Hogsmeade, he knew, but there was no way he was telling Lucius that Tomaren had attacked him.

Then he wouldn't have to mention his orgasm.

He wouldn't have to admit his shame.

Severus kept remembering the feeling of the wet tongue drawing a bulls-eye on his skin. He could still feel the hand stroking his cock.. with faint echoes of the pleasure stirring within him even now.

It had felt incredibly, horribly good.

And he hated Tomaren.. hated himself.. for feeling that way. Even if logic told him that it wasn't his fault. The pleasure had to be present, or Vampires wouldn't ever find willing meals.

It was a side effect, he told himself. Designed to ensure that Tomaren got his sustenance without too much of a fight. Designed for the Vampire's survival. He shouldn't worry about it; he shouldn't be angry.

Right. Severus was bloody furious, and another part of him was damn sure it was Malachai Tomaren's fault. If he'd _liked_ Tomaren, if Tomaren had _asked_, and he'd said yes.. then it would've been different. Then he wouldn't have reason to be angry.

Eventually, Severus stopped thinking about it. He pulled himself together with a scalding bath, got dressed, and dragged himself out to teach.

The first class was utter Hell. The second would be much worse.

He sat down behind his desk and found himself staring at a room full of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. A sea of black and yellow and blue stared back at him dumbly, like cows.

The minutes ticked by.

Eventually, one Hufflepuff boy whose name he hadn't cared to learn timidly raised a hand.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff," he'd growled, before he'd even realized what he'd said.

A collective gasp went up. The hand went down.

"Any other questions?"

He stared at the dull (if wider than usual) eyes of Europe's youth. It was a depressing sight. "Excellent," Severus went on fiercely, "Consider this a free period."

"Sir," one pinch faced Ravenclaw began.

"_Ten points from Ravenclaw_ I said no talking!"

It didn't matter that he hadn't actually said 'no talking'. The girl shut her mouth, that was enough for him.

The period was spent in silence. Eventually, the children stopped looking at him expectantly, and Severus spent the time reading one inch from Rocelyn Borgin's parchment on The Advantages of Blowing Stuff Up with Potions a hundred or so times over. He just couldn't concentrate on the sentences in front of him, no matter how hard he tried. Severus gave her a 'B' on the assignment because she'd managed to use twelve synonyms for "explosion" in just one sentence, and he was sure that coming up with them all had been difficult.

Time seemed to run together all too fast, even though it ticked by excruciatingly slowly. Eventually it dawned on him that a completely different set of houses and years were sitting in front of him. The Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years were there now. When had the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws left? He couldn't remember. But it _was_ a different class.. because Ginny Weasley was there, and he knew that she wasn't a first year anymore. Wasn't she? And that flash of blonde in the back.. that had to be a Creevy.

Severus cringed. This was not good. "Bloody hell."

The students stared at him in shock. Fuck, he'd said that out loud.

Another collective gasp arose. Merlin's balls, he'd said 'fuck' out loud too.

"Open your bloody books to page fifty-seven and read about whatever potion it says to until the class is over," Severus snarled, rushing through it in a loud voice in the hopes that this would prevent too many more expletives from leaking out of his mouth. The children looked thoroughly traumatized.

Malachai had swallowed his sperm.

Bloody hell, it was going to be a long day.

--------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, he'd gained some control over himself. When his free period had finally rolled around, he'd woken up fully, and was thinking about the day ahead of him. It was a bad sign that it had taken that long.

Today was Tuesday. Harry Potter had an Occulmency lesson at eight o'clock tonight. Severus realized that having to deal with Harry Potter was now associated with 'Not Such A Bad Thing' in his mind, when compared to having to spend one moment in the presence of Malachai Tomaren.

Today was Tuesday. He'd told Lucius that Tomaren would most likely go to Hogsmeade on the weekends. Tomaren's convenient labeling method for his blood supply had come in very handy in anticipating his movements.

Today was Tuesday. Lucius had asked him to check on Draco today. Make sure he was doing alright. Was Lucius secretly communicating with his son already? Had Draco had a very strange house elf approach him with news of his father's prison break? He had to keep Draco away from Lucius. Draco didn't need the turmoil of being on the run with an escaped convict.

Not to mention the heart attack it would give Narcissa if she discovered her idiot husband had stolen away her darling boy.

Merlin's balls, Narcissa would hold Severus personally responsible. She would murder him.

But would that really be so bad? He could do with a rest....

Well, first thing's first. Find Draco and talk to him.

Severus knew Draco should be having Care of Magical Creatures now; he'd heard Draco complaining about it at a curfew check earlier that week. So, that meant that he was probably hanging out in the boy's dormitory with whoever else was skipping Care of Magical Creatures today.

The familiarity of the Slytherin Common Room relaxed him somewhat. He'd spent several hours a day for.. most of his life.. in this room. Around him, green and silver soothed his frayed nerves. Children who had a free period sat around, reading or talking. There weren't that many of them. Hmm.. but no Draco, so he probably was in the dormitory. Severus headed down to the sixth year's dormitory, stepping inside with little care for anyone within's privacy.

It was empty, save for Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Two guesses as to why that particular pair were skipping together. Neither of them looked to be in a good mood today, judging from the scowls passed between them before they turned their attention to their Head of House. Severus wondered if he'd interrupted a spat.

"Shouldn't you be in Care of Magical Creatures, Zabini?" Severus asked. He leveled a hawk-like glower on Blaise, hoping to get the boy to leave so he could talk to Draco alone.

The boy gave him a nod, folding skinny arms across his stomach with unconcern and tossing the curtain of black hair that was always getting him mistaken for a female - even by Severus, at first - over his shoulder. "Most definitely."

Severus was a bit surprised by this amazing lack of shame. Why were the Slytherins always acting their most Slytherin at the wrong moments? "Then why, may I ask, are you not there?" he asked icily.

"Because everyone's talking about it, and Pansy slapped Draco, so I'm comforting him."

Severus arched an eyebrow. Teenage gossip, dear Merlin. Blaise didn't look like he'd been doing any comforting, in fact there was still the faint buzz of tension in the room, but Severus didn't really care. "Everyone is talking about what, Mister Zabini?"

"That bloody inept Professor, that's what," Draco suddenly spoke up, his posture becoming defensive and angry. His cheek was pink.

Not now. Not him. Making_ more_ trouble? Was that even possible? Could the Vampire not stop tormenting him for two seconds? Severus had to ask, though, try and keep some semblance of professionalism in front of his students. "Draco. It isn't your place to speak so of your Professors," he chastised, though with Draco, house points were never mentioned. Severus could play favorites all he wanted, thanks so much. Minerva did it with the Potter brat. "Whom are we speaking of, here?"

"Professor Tomaren."

That was it; Severus was going to bloody resign. He knew that was the answer that was coming, but it did nothing to improve the fact that he'd been right. Stay calm in front of the students. "And what is your complaint with Professor Tomaren?"

Draco's entire face turned pink now; from anger. Blaise looked at him with some concern, and after a few moments it was clear Draco wasn't answering this one.

"He ah.. he said something very rude to Draco. In front of the class."

"Oh Salazar.. let's hear it," Severus sighed. He could feel another one of his headaches coming on. Rubbing his temple, he waited expectantly.

"Well, Draco was complaining, you see, about this grade he got on an exam.."

"Shut it, Blaise, I'll tell it," Draco growled, shoving at the smaller boy. Blaise rocked on his heels with eyeballs rolled ceiling-ward and gestured for Draco to go ahead.

"Look, this Professor is obviously a rotten teacher, he doesn't even grade fairly at all, and we aren't learning anything really.."

"Then if you aren't learning anything, how could you do badly on an exam?" Severus snapped impatiently, wishing Draco would get to the point already.

Draco stared up at him in surprise for a moment, then decided to press on. "Well anyway, I said it out loud, that we weren't learning anything. And he just looked at me - you know, he's so mousy looking, I didn't think he was going to say a word, really. Honestly, I hadn't thought he'd heard me. It wasn't very quiet in the room. He just stared at me, and he got this freakish look in his eye, and he said.. bollocks, Blaise, how exactly did he say it again?"

Blaise leaned against a bedpost, reciting the line as if he'd already said it a thousand times, "He said, 'Maybe next time you should spend more time studying your text than the inside of Mister Zabini's_ mouth_'."

Draco covered his face with his hands, then dragged them away, his expression embarrassed. "Right in front of the whole bloody class!" he wailed, then plopped down onto a nearby bedspread.

Severus just blinked. It wasn't what Tomaren had said, precisely.. but that a teacher had said that to a student.. in front of an entire class. And that he was sure not too many students - if any - had previously known about Draco and Blaise's not-truthfully-platonic relationship.

"So Miss Parkinson slapped you, and you decided to skip your next class."

"It's going to be all over the whole school," Draco growled, then promptly fell over backwards onto the bed behind him. "Everything's ruined. My future is ruined. What will my mother say? ...What would my father say? The Parkinsons won't let me marry their daughter now - and I'm sure Pansy's now glad of that, too. She was so angry.."

Severus had missed something. "You and Pansy..." He glanced to Blaise, who was scowling again.

Draco nodded, covering his face again. "We figured, well, we're going to get married anyway - it was going to be announced at our graduation parties - so we might as well date.."

Severus didn't like the sound of this at all. "Draco.. as your Godfather, I have always thought of you as the son I never had. So keep that in mind when I say.. that was a bloody stupid thing to do."

"Well it doesn't matter now, does it?" Draco rallied angrily, sitting back up, "We're not getting married now, obviously. The Parkinsons were even reluctant when father was imprisoned.. mother barely managed to smooth things over! But now.. father known death eater, son known pouf."

Blaise laughed. No one else did.

"What about you, Zabini?" Severus asked, turning to Blaise, feeling protective of Draco and angry at the boy who had cost him so much, "Has this ruined your future as well?" It was meant to be snide and rhetorical, but the boy took the question seriously.

Blaise shrugged. "Not any future I'm aware of, Sir. Everyone back home already knows I'm gay. Sorted it all out in fourth year. I'm just going to take over the vineyard back home nobody wants; live off my trust fund.. I can bloody well shag anyone I want."

"Well aren't you sodding lucky?" Draco groused, "My parents had _plans_ for me.."

Severus rolled his eyes. If Tomaren had only known what a favor he had potentially done Draco.. "So make new plans."

Draco stared at his Godfather as if this were the stupidest thing he'd ever heard of. "What?"

"Going deaf now, Draco? I said, make new plans. Your father's a fugitive.."

Draco winced. That had been the wrong thing to say. Oh bloody well.

"Your mother's a societal outcast because of him.. and you're a pouf. So do something different."

"Like _what_?"

Irritation flared. "I don't know; go live on Zabini's bleeding vineyard. Think of something." He made to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a word with your Defense Professor, Draco. Don't skip anymore classes. And Zabini.. do a better job of comforting Draco, will you?"

With that, he left.

Severus made it to the Defense classroom in record time. He stepped inside to the empty room, then made his way up the little staircase that lead to the office, and walked in without knocking.

Tomaren didn't look up from where his attention was fixed on the fireplace. Dumbledore's head was reflected in its flames. "Would you care to take a walk up to my office, Malachai? I'd like to have a word with you in person.."

There was another person in the room. A young man.. no, THE young man, from Tomaren's bedside picture. Standing behind Tomaren as he reclined in a chair. He was instantly glaring daggers at Severus and tugging on Tomaren's robes, which was strange because he was certain he'd never met the man.

Tomaren looked up to see Severus, and winked. Snape's blood boiled. The Vampire swivelled his chair back to the fireplace, crossing one leg over the other. The boy waited until he'd stopped moving before picking up the Vampire's hair. ..He was braiding it. "A little later, perhaps, Albus? I'm a bit busy at the moment.."

Severus actually saw the twinkle go out of Dumbledore's eyes. "No, now." he said, in a much sterner voice than Severus had recalled hearing in years. There was no arguing with Albus when he was like that.

"..Right then. Now. Gotcha. I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Albus.."

"Excellent." The head disappeared abruptly, and the flames died down.

"We've got company. Can I kill him?"

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, in genuine surprise, matching the young man's glare with one of his own.

"No, we can't. Calm down. So, Severus. What can I do for you?"

The young man in the picture. That meant, he had to be Tomaren's lover. At the school. Was he a Vampire too? Was Tomaren planning on turning the castle's dungeons into a Vampire Love Nest? Severus struggled to find the words to correctly express his extreme displeasure in that moment, then went on the offensive.

"How dare you make accusations against Draco when you yourself parade your lover around where any student could walk in and see him?" he growled, making no attempt to hide the rage contorting his features.

Malachai just looked calmly confused. "Lover?" he glanced backwards, trying to see over his own head without disturbing the boy's handiwork. "You mean Dusty?"

Severus blanked. "What? Why would I refer to your cat as your lover, you idiot?" Then he glanced around. "Where is that little fleabag?"

The boy made a very catlike growl deep in his throat. Tomaren smirked. "Standing right behind me."

Severus stared at the boy for a very long moment as the pieces clicked together. "..You're Dusty?" he asked, raising his brows at him.

"How's your hand?" the boy asked, smiling innocently.

He looked down at his scarred knuckles. "You're an animagus."

"Yeah."

"I kicked you."

"You tried."

This day needed to be over right now. "He's not your lover?"

"_Used_ to be," Tomaren explained, then stood from the chair and shook out the braid Dusty had been working on.

"What did you say to Draco?" Severus asked. He was being very calm. It was taking all his concentration not to kill something.

"You know what I said."

"Did you do it to get at me?"

"Did it work?" Tomaren smiled. His canines were slightly pointier than they should've been.

"You ruined his life. Just to irritate me."

"Ah, so it did work."

"Are you aware of how unprofessional that was?"

Tomaren nodded innocently. Dusty snickered behind him. "Sure. Didn't think it would _ruin_ the kid's life.. but hey, he's only sixteen. I'm sure it'll happen three or four more times before he dies."

"Dumbledore-"

"Is just itching to give me a stern talking-to, don't worry." Tomaren stepped towards Severus, waiting for him to get out of the way of the door.

Severus didn't move. "It's about time."

"Can I leave now? Don't want to be late.. Dusty, you'd better stick around here. I'd go cat first, though, just in case any student arrives for the next class early because she can _barely contain_ her eagerness to learn."

The animagus nodded, snickering again. Severus scowled.

"Hey. Move." Tomaren prodded his arm lightly.

"Don't you bloody touch me!" Severus shouted, purely instinctually, and practically jumped out of Tomaren's way.

The Dark Arts Professor looked down at his hand in confusion, then back up at Severus. Dusty snickered. Severus wondered just how much the cat-man knew.. would he really laugh if he knew what Tomaren had done to him to cause that reaction? Probably. Little prat.

Severus made a mental note to inform Lucius about Dusty too... why did things always have to get more complicated the simpler you wanted to keep them?

The Potions Master put a hand to the nearby wall, recovering his breathing into some semblance of normality. Where was his wand? Forget curses, he was going to use it as a bloody _stake_. He glared at Tomaren through the dark curtain of his hair, waiting for the Vampire to leave, and to stop staring at him like he was sizing up a blood lollipop from Honeyduke's.

Which he was. Those too-blue eyes were locked intently on him. And he swore Tomaren was salivating. No one had ever salivated at him before. It was rather awkward.

Something deep within the Vampire's eyes glittered, and his pale lips curled into a bad imitation of a smile. "You might fear my touch now.. but you'll learn to love it later."

That had managed to be simultaneously threatening and slightly cheesy. "In your bloody dreams, you smarmy .. GIT." It was, in the end, all Severus could say. A very loudly pronounced 'GIT' seemed to sum things up pretty damn well.

Tomaren laughed, then swept out the door and down the stairs in one smooth, lightning-quick motion that certainly wasn't human.

Severus expelled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. After a few long moments of silence, he remembered the cat. Who was, of course, a man and an animagus, but who for all intents and purposes was still a cat in Severus' mind. He turned. Dusty was staring at him oddly.

"What did he mean by that?"

Surely the boy didn't expect Severus to deign to answer. Look at him.. wearing pants and a sweater that were obviously too big. Both he and Tomaren seemed to be perpetual members of the Clothes Too Large Club. Severus glared an answer at Dusty, but the boy still seemed to be expecting something from him.

"He was looking at you very strangely. And you totally freaked out when he touched you." Dusty sat on the desk, leaning his head back, clearly mulling all this over. "Has he touched you before?"

"Why? Should I be worried that I'm going to catch something now that he has? Is stupidity contagious with Vampires?"

Dusty didn't look amused. Severus didn't know why not; he thought it was a hilarious joke. Lucius would have laughed.

"Great. Let me guess. He fed from you, and while his Vampiric enchantments were literally charming your pants off, you had an orgasm, and now you feel all ashamed and disgusted."

Severus felt his face go hot. He retreated further behind his hair and recoiled into his robes.

Dusty just nodded to himself, frowning slightly. "Just face it; you liked it. It'll be much easier to deal with once you simply accept that."

"Not a bloody chance," Severus growled. "Do not presume to think that you know what has happened to me."

"It's as clear as day. I've seen it before."

"Sod off."

"I'm supposed to be here. If you don't want to talk to me anymore, all you have to do is leave." Dusty shrugged, as if he didn't care either way.

"Answer me one thing. If you aren't his lover 'anymore', they why are you traveling around with this insufferable prat?" Severus asked. It wasn't an important question, but he was curious and he wanted to change the subject away from 'you liked it when he molested you' because that insistence was making him quite angry. He hadn't given his consent and there was no way he would; it was as simple as that.

Dusty gave him another odd look. That was it; the next person to stare at Severus as if he'd spouted a second head was getting a demonstration on the proper way to cast the Cruciatus curse. "What? Because I'm his friend. Don't you have friends?" the cat asked snidely.

"Yes. They eat kittens. So shut the bloody hell up before I tell them where you sleep at night." Okay, that had been petty, and it hadn't done anything very damaging to Dusty, but Severus didn't care. He just wanted to be gone from the boy.

Dusty opened his mouth to say something - apparently it had been a doozy of a something, judging from the huge 'O' shape his lips had been forming - when the floo erupted again.

It was Albus' head, as before, and he was looking unhappy about something. "Severus? I need to speak with you."

Well. That couldn't be good.


	9. Malachai

When Severus reached Dumbledore's office, he was glad to find that there were no unexpected surprises waiting for him there. It was just him, Tomaren, Dumbledore.. and a plethora of ex Headmaster portraits. Though when he looked up, he curiously noticed that none of the actual Headmasters were in their frames. Interesting.

Tomaren was seated before the Headmaster's desk, and Albus was seated behind it, watching Severus patiently.

Severus had had enough of all this teenage nonsense. Even the way he and Tomaren acted felt very adolescent, suddenly, the back and forth baiting and biting (literally) that they'd been doing. And to think that Tomaren had actually used a student to get at him. That was underhanded. Not only that, but childish and petty.

It was something he would do.

Tomaren, he noticed, was affecting his usual meek facade, his unbound hair falling like scarecrow straw across his eyes, which were downcast. Severus doubted, however, that Dumbledore bought this mask he wore. Was he pretending to be penitent, or not even paying attention?

Severus had the sudden and intense urge to hurt him. To push the Vampire down, straddle him, claim his wrists, and humiliate him. Utterly, utterly shame him. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he rather liked the mental image he got of forcing the Vampire to suck his cock. Disgust filled him, but it was gone much sooner than he felt it should have been, and then a little voice in the back of his head said, "Why? Why not? Doesn't he deserve it?"

"Severus."

That was Albus. Severus tore his eyes away from the Vampire, who hadn't once looked at him, to Albus, who looked very stern. He hardened his jaw, dragging his thoughts back to the present. "Yes, Albus?"

"Won't you have a seat?" Albus smiled, and for a moment it seemed as if some of his good humor had returned, but Severus wasn't trusting that little smile for an instant.

He sat in the other seat open, conspicuously edging his chair away form Tomaren under the pretext of shifting his weight. The Vampire didn't seem to notice. Tomaren shook his hair out over his shoulders, letting his head fall back against the chair, suddenly looking more lively, as he had in his office.

"Looking a little pekid there, Malachai, are you alright?" Dumbledore asked politely, as if they'd just been having a little chat.

"Quite alright, Albus," Tomaren intoned quietly, a little smirk curling his lips, which he touched with his fingertips as he braced an elbow on the armrest.

"Oh, here. I saw this and thought you might like it." Albus sat forward, holding what looked to be a lollipop across his desk towards Tomaren. Severus stared at the blood-red wrapper, recognizing it as the blood lollipops Honeyduke's sold. The very thing he'd thought of earlier when Tomaren was sizing him up.

"What's this?" Tomaren asked, reaching forward to pluck the lollipop from Dumbledore's hand. He sat back again, examining it, twirling the stem between his thumb and forefinger.

"A blood flavored lollipop." Just for a moment, Albus' eyes twinkled.

Tomaren arched a brow. "What'll they think of next?" he asked the air, then deposited it into the pocket of his scruffy robes.

"Severus? Sweet?" Albus offered a bowl to him.

Severus waved his hand. "No thank you, Albus. I was hoping to find out why you'd called me down here?"

Albus nodded, his little good humor suddenly gone. "I thought it would be best. You are Draco's head of house."

Severus nodded, willing Albus to continue. This whole confrontation was progressing too slowly for his liking.

"Before you arrived, I was waiting to hear some sort of explanation from Malachai." Albus turned his piercing gaze Tomaren's direction.

Severus just nodded. That would explain why his summons came so quickly.

"Do you have nothing to say for your behavior to Mr. Malfoy?"

Tomaren was the only one in the room smiling at this point. "I was simply stating a fact. If he _would_ study his texts, he would do better on the exams. I try to teach from the text as often as possible, to give the students an easier time when they study. But he does spend a lot of time .. what's the word? Snogging. Blaise Zabini."

"I do not see-" Severus began, but Albus cut him off. "That may be true, Malachai-"

"What?" Severus cried in disbelief, sitting forward in his chair.

"..but it is not appropriate to say in front of a classroom full of students."

"Neither is calling me a freak and announcing in his snottiest tone that the Laughing Taffy stuck to the underside of his desk could teach my class better." Tomaren grumped.

Severus barely stifled a laugh. Tomaren glanced at him out of the corner of one eye, apparently unappreciative of the joke.

"Ah." Dumbledore sighed. "That, too, is true, but Mr. Malfoy is a student. As a Professor, you are expected to behave with more restraint than a sixteen-year-old."

This only served to make Tomaren smirk again. "You are of course right, Albus. I ..sit thoroughly chastised."

Albus stared at Tomaren over the tops of his half moon spectacles, perhaps trying to import some of the gravity of the situation into the Vampire. "This is not something I take lightly, Malachai. What you did is inexcusable."

"Alright," Tomaren nodded, his smile fading, face adopting a serious expression. "I apologize, Headmaster. What can I do to make it right?"

Severus scoffed quietly. As if anyone would buy that abrupt change in attitude. From the look Albus was giving Tomaren, he certainly didn't.

"I support my professors, Malachai. I stand behind them, because they are a representation of the school. But I cannot support such behavior as this. I would ask that you apologize to Draco, perhaps after his next class with you. Considering the circumstances, I think it would be best if you refrained from any more of your blunt commentary in future. There will be consequences if it happens again." Dumbledore gave Tomaren another one of his stern gazes; the kind that were wont to melt seventh-years into little piles of goo.

Tomaren just nodded. Severus frowned. That was it?

"Now that's out of the way," Dumbledore sat forward in his chair, eyes now on the both of them. "Do either of you have anything else to say?"

"About what?" Tomaren asked curiously.

"Well, it's clear to me, and every other professor at this school, that there is no love lost between the two of you. It's also clear that there is no simple reason for this."

Severus wondered how much Albus really knew. He always knew more than you thought he did. "Of course. He's a petty thief." Okay.. that hadn't quite come out as eloquently as he would've hoped.

"I am not a petty thief!"

"I was referring rather to how you knew Malachai was a Vampire, Severus. You never did tell me how you found out at our last meeting."

Severus turned and looked at Malachai. The Vampire glared back at him.

A glance at Albus told him that the wizard was simply waiting, patiently, for an explanation.

Severus sighed. "I was convinced that he'd broken into my office, but I couldn't get him to admit it, so I used Legillimency to try and discover the truth myself."

"Severus, this is.."

"Yes, I know it was wrong," Severus groused, "And I did it anyway."

Albus frowned. "I told you I would be looking into the situation."

"Oh, honestly, Albus. I can tell when I'm being brushed off. I realize that it was rash of me, but I thought it was the only thing to be done if I wanted to discover what part he played. But all I discovered was that Tomaren wasn't human." Severus folded his arms, scowling.

Albus looked now to the Vampire. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"I didn't do it."

Albus nodded, as if that wasn't what he'd meant. "Anything else?"

"Well, I don't think Severus should be judged too harshly, you know. He made a decision to take action, because he thought no one else would. Can't say I blame him."

Severus stared at Tomaren in disbelief. "What?"

Albus scrutinized the Vampire closely. "Really."

"Sure," Tomaren shrugged. "He's really quite good, you know, cut through my mental defenses as if they weren't even there. I mean, having someone rooting around in your memories isn't all that pleasant or welcome, but I understand why he did it." Now the Vampire was looking at Severus, staring at him intently.

Clearly, this was the part where Severus was expected to _not_ mention any of the rest of it. Perhaps Albus could be convinced that this was the entirety of the situation. Then no one had to add the part about Severus sabotaging his blood supply or Tomaren molesting him in his bed.

That would be nice.

Severus suddenly realized that it was the middle of the day. After this meeting, there would be more classes to 'teach'. Harry Potter would be coming round for Occulmency lessons at eight. Lucius wanted a report on his son. And Tomaren was sitting right there, not two feet away, the one responsible for this feeling of violation within him.

There would be no point telling Albus, though. It would all be over soon. He just had to make it through the week with his sanity intact, and then the Vampire would be gone. Forever.

He wanted to go back to bed. To sleep the rest of the day away. He couldn't face his afternoon classes. He couldn't face the rest of the week. And certainly not Harry Potter.

Belatedly, Severus realized that the conversation had gone on without him. Albus and Tomaren were nodding a lot, so apparently they had come to a resolution.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore halted his conversation with Tomaren, looking to him. He did a double take. "Are you well?"

The weariness was apparently showing through again. Oh well. "I'm canceling my classes for the rest of the afternoon. As well as Potter's Occulmency lesson tonight."

Needless to say, Albus was a bit surprised by that. "Canceling classes? What's wrong?"

"I haven't been feeling well this whole day.. I thought I was feeling better, but I'm doing worse suddenly." Severus stood uncertainly, then turned for the door and made his way out.

Behind him, Albus was saying something, but he was sure it wasn't important.

Severus' trip back to his quarters were spent in a zombie-like state. He'd almost managed to forget about everything, thought he'd be able to get through the day like a professional. He'd begun doing alright, until he'd started thinking about what had happened again. That had triggered all the bad feelings to come back. Now he only wanted to sleep.

He put himself to bed without first getting undressed, and slept fitfully until the next morning.

"Wake up, sunshine."

Severus sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide, breath stuck in his throat. The dim, hazy room slowly bled into focus.

Laughter, off to his left. A weight on the bed that shouldn't have been there. "That was a great reaction."

Severus snarled wordlessly to keep from panicking. Wand. Where was his wand? Time for something to die. He thrust his hands out blindly, groping for the bedside table in the semi-darkness.

The morning sun couldn't touch him down here. Where was a giant sunlamp when you needed one? Severus struggled to reorder his jumbled thoughts. And he couldn't find his wand. "Where's my wand?"

More laughter. Evil, mocking laughter. "It's safe. You don't really think I'd let you have a weapon to use against me, do you? Especially when you've just woken up. Don't want any spells ricocheting crazily around the room."

"Shut it. You talk too much." Severus swung blindly, and was rewarded when his fist connected with flesh.

"Ow. Stop that."

"What are you doing here? Hand me my wand; I'm going to murder you."

"I'm already dead."

"Fuck."

Tomaren laughed, then shifted so he was sitting next to him, their sides pressed together, and turned towards Severus.

"Get away from me. I don't know why you can't just leave me alone - you've had your revenge for the sabotage on your blood supply, and yet you continue to torment me."

"But I'm hungry, and you took all my food."

"So go get some more."

"That was the plan, sunshine." Tomaren lunged.

The ensuing scuffle did not last long. When up against someone stronger than he, Severus had learned that the trick was to catch them off balance; use their own strength and momentum against them. As a boy who'd always been skinnier and frailer than his schoolmates, he'd learned this early on. So Tomaren lunged, but Severus fell onto his back, got his feet up, and heaved.

The Vampire was fast, but he couldn't predict Severus' movements. He fell forward, and Severus rolled on top of the boyish looking man as he struggled to right himself, a hand landing on something harder than flesh amongst the clothing. It was long and slim, and the wizard tugged desperately at it as Tomaren tried to buck him off.

With a noise of triumph, Severus jabbed the unfamiliar wand into Tomaren's throat.

"Ow! That's _my_ wand, you ass."

Breath speeding down, Severus got to his knees. He straddled Tomaren, smirking darkly. The Vampire had stilled, clearly not wanting to risk a spell cast at point-blank range.

"Not anymore. What did you do with mine?" Severus demanded, pushing the tip of the wand into Tomaren's throat and feeling disappointed when the Vampire didn't seem to notice.

"I threw it away."

Grinding his jaw, Severus tightened his grip. He noticed that the wand was shorter than his, the grip on the handle more elaborate. And the wood was red, probably rosewood.

"Where is my wand?" he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. Severus was really not in the mood for Tomaren's amused demeanor, which seemed to suggest that Snape had done something cute.

"In. The. Trash." Tomaren replied, clipping off the words with his incisors while grinning.

The Vampire shifted beneath Severus to better brace himself upright, but the Potions Master jammed the wand into his trachea. "No. Lay down. I am not giving you any leverage. Hands above your head."

Tomaren slowly complied, expression blank, as if he were in no big hurry. He simply watched Severus intently, like a predator sizing up its prey.

A quickly muttered spell later, ropes were appearing from the headboard, wrapping around Tomaren's wrists tightly.

The Vampire tugged on his wrists; Severus could see the gears turning behind his eyes as he tested his bindings.

As soon as Severus was sure they were going to hold, he shifted off Tomaren's legs, sliding off the bed quickly as unbound feet sought soft places to kick. Tomaren looked most disappointed that he'd missed.

Severus dumped out his trash can and shifted through the crumpled parchment and broken quills. Nothing. "It's not in here," he growled, kicking a pile of balled parchment for emphasis.

"Of course it isn't."

Severus felt his blood pressure rising as he turned his incensed stare on his captive. "_You said it was in the trash_."

"Yeah. Not your trash, though."

"Not my trash." He'd thrown the wand away. Taken it out of Severus' rooms, and thrown it in one of the seven billion bins strategically placed in alcoves, classrooms, and private quarters all over the castle.

Tomaren looked decidedly pleased with himself after seeing the scowl that bit of information brought on.

"Why did you do that?" Severus asked, his tone overly calm, words pronounced carefully. If he wasn't exceedingly careful, he would explode.

"Because I like making you angry. You're so cute when you're angry."

"Why do you not understand that I am a dangerous man? Why do you persist in mocking me?" Severus was slowly advancing on the bed, hands pulling at the buttons of his robes with furious movements. He didn't think about why they were doing that, he didn't want to admit to himself what he was about to do. "I have given you so many opportunities to just leave me alone. I strike, you strike back, but then you strike back again and again. You don't let it die."

He slide onto the bed, crawling over Tomaren's legs so they couldn't kick for him again, peeling the layers of clothing away like a second skin. There was a murderous glint in Severus Snape's eyes. "I don't know what to do. How do I make you leave me alone?"

Tomaren had apparently finally registered that maybe Snape was a bit angry. His liquid blue eyes were opened very wide, and that young, open face looked nervous. "Um.. What are you doing?"

"You molested me. You _forced_ me. There is no worse crime than what you did."

"..I could think of something worse.." Tomaren said slowly.

Severus ignored him. "From the very beginning, I wanted nothing to do with you. I had no intention of even acknowledging your existence." Severus was almost done; the layers were peeled off and tossed hastily aside, and now he was naked, casting off his underwear. And if Tomaren said one word about his skinny hips, he was going to _Avada_ him. Then they'd just see how dead he truly was.

"Fair enough, but why are you taking off your clothes?" Tomaren was squirming and looking most uncomfortable. His eyes were darting everywhere but never lingering on any part of Snape.

"You have been nothing but trouble for me. And I asked myself, what was to be done? I could not find an answer. Now, however, it seems only fitting that I repay you in kind."

Very quietly, the Vampire asked, "What do you mean?"

"Surely you can guess what I mean." Severus put all the anger, frustration, and rage that he'd felt over the past weeks into the smile he gave Tomaren.

Then he was ripping at Tomaren's clothes, pulling and yanking at the fabric of the Vampire's pants, his fly, deft fingers thumbing the buttons through their holes. The entire fly was done in buttons, and he could vaguely make out that they were metal. Something stiff pressed against his hands as he pushed the placket of the fly aside. Curiosity got the better of Severus, and he pulled out the small piece of rolled parchment from Tomaren's pocket. Fresh from the owlry, no doubt.

Tomaren squirmed, tugged on his arms, thrashed his head around a bit, but it was all to no avail. Suddenly, he went very still, and Severus pushed hair out of his eyes to see the Vampire staring down at his prize. "What's this? Anything good?" Severus asked mockingly, holding it up for Tomaren to see.

"Stop it. I don't care if you read my letter; knock yourself out. Just let me go." This was said with very little force of will.

"Do I detect a tremor of fear from the 'natural predator'?" Severus asked cruelly, beginning to enjoy himself. He unfolded the parchment and read.

_My Dearest Malachai,_

_So glad to hear that you will be joining me in New York! I hope this note finds you, but if it is intercepted by any of our friends, I encourage them to come find us, so that they may learn why it is the Vampires of de la Roche have lived so very long._

_I will mention that NYC's Force is a tiresome Spaniard who hates Americans almost as much as the city he governs (So speak Greek when you get there and pretend you do not understand English), and he seemed most appalled that 'more' of the de la Roche family were claiming territory around his lands. One would think that with ruling such a high population of us, he would not notice. And do not worry, the family is behind you in your troublesome times. Every member reaches out to help the others._

_Well, I've prattled on enough, this is turning into a book. Valor has his work cut out for him now, poor bird. Adam sends his regards, and looks forward to your joining us._

_Paselo,_

_Chakeawa_

"Family?" Severus repeated aloud, "There's some interesting terminology to use with monsters. Merlin, I wonder what a family reunion is like with you lot. 'De la Roche family reunion. Bring a corpse to share.'" Severus chuckled a moment at his incredible wit. "Who's this Chakeawa, anyway? The equivalent of a little old Vampire granny?"

"That is none of your business." Some anger was meshing with the young-looking Vampire's fear, apparently.

Severus smirked, watching the angry expression grow. "Found your balls, have you? What's all this about going to New York? Planning on leaving us?" Inwardly, he was a bit more concerned than he let on; if the note were to be believed, there would be a whole horde of Vampires wondering where their little prince had gotten to when Voldemort snatched him up.. Or, even worse, a whole horde at Voldemort's disposal when Tomaren accepted his proposal.

"That is also none of your business." Tomaren was trying to pull away again, and Severus watched with open amusement as the Vampire wriggled beneath him.

"Don't make me use the _Imperious_ on you," Severus warned, "That would take all the fun out of this."

Then he was tossing the note aside. Tomaren watched it until it disappeared on the other side of the bed, looking panicked. His attention was drawn back to Severus, however, when the wizard pulled his trousers down. Tomaren was wearing white underwear. Normal, white underwear. How boring. That didn't really matter, however, because it too got pulled down.

"Stop it! Can't you just.. I don't know.. Hit me, or something, and then let me go? Please don't do this.."

"Oh, there's irony. Where was your sense of mercy when I wanted you to stop?"

"Okay.. Look.. I'm really sorry, alright? Really sorry. So incredibly sorry, in fact, I don't think I've been more sorry about anything, really.."

Severus ignored this. He worked on getting the trousers and underwear off Tomaren's legs, noticing that some part of him must've already been resigned to it, because his legs didn't try to kick again.

He looked at the slender legs, the not-quite-muscled thighs, and the smooth, hairless cock. That was a bit unexpected. Tomaren didn't seem _that_ young. Come to think of it, his legs were smooth and hairless too. Odd, but unimportant right now.

"Stop it.. Please.." Tomaren was still whispering, but Severus wasn't even sure if he was still expected to hear, it was uttered so quietly.

Severus pushed the boy's legs apart, and sunk down between them. He pulled the calves around his waist. It felt good. Eyes roamed over Tomaren's shirt, which he was still dressed in, then the slender curve of his neck and the face that was too pretty for a boy. "Why did they make you a Vampire, hmm? So they could forever have a young whore to service them?"

"Stop it," Tomaren groaned, pulling at his bonds urgently. "That's not funny."

"Ooh, struck a nerve, have I? I can see what they see in you, though, you know." He used a charm to light a bedside lamp. "You look the part of the perfect victim in this light."

Merlin, the control was incredible. The trembling legs, clenched around him in fury, the soft skin yielding to his hands as he pinched and prodded and kneaded roughly. Severus decided he ought to discover if Vampires could bruise. He set the wand down next to him and dug his talons into Tomaren's hips.

The Vampire made a surprised noise of pain. Severus chuckled, and pulled his fingers from the skin. He'd left little half-moon valleys. Good.

This was never a position he'd found himself in before. All his life, he'd been a bottom, mostly because all his life, Lucius had been a top. Lucius had been the only one. He'd never had a boy underneath him, naked and terrified and quivering.

Always before, he'd been made to repress everything. Repress the feelings, repress the pain. Everyone took from him, even Dumbledore. All his life, he'd had to put aside his self, to do a job or be something someone else wanted. Never had Severus Snape been the one in control. He'd never been the one leading, or forcing someone else to put aside their needs for his. He never got recognition for all his hard work, never got a reward.

But now.. now there was a Vampire, bound and helpless, underneath him. And he really wanted to fuck it. To exert control, to simply _take_ as he liked, and to hell with anything else. Merlin, it was intoxicating. And he was so _hard_, his skin was so hot against the coolness of Tomaren's own.. He struggled to hold on to his control. He wanted to relish this.

Severus pushed Tomaren's shirt up. Nails scratched down the boyish man's chest, leaving red trails in their wake, though they quickly faded. He pinched the rosy nipples into hard pebbles, smirking as Tomaren made whimpering noises. The Vampire's chin wobbled, and it was clear he was trying not to make much noise, but his expression was quite distressed.

Encouraged, Severus leaned over and bit down on one of the hard little pebbles. Tomaren made a wounded noise and tried to pull away, but Severus kept his teeth clamped firmly, so all the creature underneath him succeeded in doing was hurting himself more. He gasped and made small pained noises, which were too delectable to Severus' ears.

The potions master lifted his head and pressed two fingers to Tomaren's lips. "Suck," he commanded quietly, feeling his arousal throb at just the thought of what he was about to do. When the Vampire groaned "No," and turned his head away, Severus bit down on the other nipple.

"Ow! Stop it! I'll do anything - just let me go!"

"No," Severus murmured, feeling decidedly pleased with Tomaren's begging, and shoved his fingers past the Vampire's pale lips. "I'm being awfully nice, preparing you like this. You should be thankful for small mercies. I could just take you dry."

With a shudder that passed through his whole nubile form, the boyish Vampire began sucking softly on Severus' fingers. He rubbed the top of Tomaren's tongue with them, closing his eyes a moment at the feeling of warm, wet suction. If only that were the boy's mouth on his cock..  
It was better to think of him as a boy. No need to keep reminding himself that this man was older than himself. It was better for the fantasy.

Severus sucked in a noisy breath, pushing his aching erection against the inside of Tomaren's thigh. Hmm, a last name was so impersonal, wasn't it? It was more intimidating to use the boy's first name, an intimate touch to this game they played. Severus pulled his fingers out, now liberally coated with the boy's saliva, and asked, "What's your name again? Malachai?"

Tomaren nodded, eyes squeezing shut.

"Malachai - look at me. That's an order."

The boy opened his eyes, focusing them on Severus' own. The wizard smiled, and without preamble, forced his two slick fingers past the cheeks of the boy's arse and inside his tight hole.

Gasping, Malachai fought to arch away, but Severus pushed forward, finger fucking him with no care for gentleness, splitting him wide open so he'd be loose enough for the wizard's cock. And Merlin, was he tight. "Think they had a good idea when they decided to make you a Vampire," Severus muttered, stretching the ring of muscle squeezing his fingers and lining the head of his cock up with it. "Merlin.. So tight.."

"Oh god, no, it hurts.." Malachai moaned, squirming. Severus shifted his position and pried the boy's cheeks apart, then rammed into him.

Malachai let out a loud noise of pain, eyes squeezed shut, tears collecting at their corners. It made Severus smile. He built his rhythm quickly, already so close to coming from the sheer psychological pleasure of the situation. But he had to draw it out as long as possible - he couldn't let Malachai off that easy. Not after all the aggravation he'd put Severus through.

He shifted himself again, so he was bent over Malachai, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of the boy's upper chest. He was on his knees, Malachai's hips in the air, the boy expelling strings of injured noises and half-muttered protests, prick smushed between their bellies so that Severus almost didn't notice that Malachai was hard.

But he was. "Little slut," Severus taunted between gulping air, "I can feel how bad you want it."

"No - no!" Malachai protested, louder, as if that would make it true. His erection, however, was leaking precum all over Severus' stomach.

Severus ground against the boy, shoving his cock frantically into that tight heat over and over, balls slapping against his arse. Sweat was beading on his brow, and it grew increasingly warmer, though Malachai's skin was still cool to the touch. He bent his head to expel hot breaths in Malachai's ear and tear at the cool skin with frantic bites. He took in the boy's clean scent and the slightly flowery odor of his shampoo.

Bliss was building in Severus' stomach, pulling his balls up tightly, and he knew that it wouldn't be long now. "You're nothing but a stupid little whore," he whispered sweetly into Malachai's ear, "And don't bother denying it anymore - I know you're hard. You'd bend over for anything with a cock, wouldn't you? Bet you just loved letting that animagus pound your tight little ass, didn't you? Why'd you two break up, anyway? Did he, perhaps, decide that he had some standards after all? Or did he just run out of money to keep hiring your services?"

Severus sped up his rhythm, moving one arm to push Malachai's leg out of the way so he could fuck him harder. Malachai howled in pain, gasping or sobbing - Severus wasn't sure which. He leaned back as he felt himself reach the edge, looking down at the boy's face, contorted in pain, and then the little body shivering underneath his, eyes finally roaming down to the swollen cock previously trapped between them.

"Well? Answer me, you stupid fucking slut. Which was it?" Severus growled. Malachai was so tight and warm around him, the pressure was so intense…

"Oh gods.. Oh _yes_..! Fuck me.. Harder," Malachai suddenly erupted, tightening his free leg around Severus' hip. The boy's loud encouragements were followed by a wild pistoning of hips, and then Severus felt the boy's come erupt between them.

The sudden intensity, the tightening of muscles around his cock as the boy climaxed was a springboard for his own, rocketing him into orgasm. He sped up, fucking frantically as the waves rocked him, shooting jets of hot sperm into Malachai's tight channel. Sweat slicked his final movements, made his limbs slippery as he finally began to slow. As it left him, he realized he'd closed his eyes, and opened them to see Malachai's face twisted in agony - his belly covered in sticky white fluid.

The Vampire had come. Severus stared in surprise. He hadn't even touched the boy's cock - and he'd come. Merlin, that had been the best orgasm he'd had in a very long time. It even beat Lucius' attentions over the past week - but honestly, it wasn't that shocking, considering the situation.

He'd exerted his dominance over the Vampire, and not only that, his control. Being the one to do the fucking for once had felt so incredible - indescribably amazing. And Malachai had _liked_ it.

Severus wiped a hand through the sticky pool on Malachai's stomach and smeared it against the Vampire's lips. "Clean yourself up, you dirty little whore."

A suddenly eager mouth took in his fingers, tongue dancing over the digits, scouring them of the Vampire's come. Severus pulled his softening cock out of the boy, who made an upset noise around the fingers, then sat next to Malachai on the bed. The Vampire released his fingers, then licked his lips clean, sighing in contentment.

Contentment? Severus stared, confused, down at the man he'd just raped. "Liked that, did you? What kind of a slut comes when he's raped?"

"Oh god.." Malachai shifted lazily, eyelids drooping to half-mast. "That was sooo good," he all but purred.

Severus blinked rapidly. Hang on. Something was not right here. "Come again?"

"Not yet, Severus.. Too soon.."

"..Wanker," only seemed appropriate. What was going on?

Malachai opened one eye all the way, then drew his knees up to his chest. "Pardon me?"

Severus glared down at the boy who, until two minutes ago, had been crying. In fact, he still had saline tracks on his cheeks. "What do you mean, it was good?"

Tugging lazily on his bonds, Malachai answered, "It was good. As in, bloody fantastic, as you brits like to say."

"You mean.. you were just _pretending_ not to like it?" This was bloody unexpected. "I didn't really just rape you?"

"Can't rape the willing, sunshine. I thought maybe the 'oh gods yes, fuck me harder' would've clued you in."

"I hate you."

"Oh come on! You just tied me up, threatened me with death, and then proceeded to sexually assault me. Please. You loved fucking me; I know you did. And so did I."

Severus couldn't believe he was hearing this. But, at the same time.. Well.. It was convenient. Because.. Hell, he could do it again, if he wanted. Maybe. "That is irrelevant right now."

Malachai laughed, smiling at him with that intensity that only post-coital bliss can bring.

Severus eyed him in irritation. He frowned, determined not to be affected by the Vampire's stupid smile. "I am going to release you now, and you're going to hand over my wand from wherever you've hidden it. Then you're going to get out of my room."

Malachai looked disappointed, but for once didn't offer protest. Severus cast the spell and the ropes disappeared. The Vampire sat up and stretched, rubbing his wrists as he stared at Severus. "I just want to say one thing."

Severus sighed, "What?"

"I didn't break into your office."

"You are going to deny that to my dying day, aren't you?"

"It's true! Why don't you believe me?"

"There was blood on my door knob, obviously used in the spell to break my locking charm. You're a Vampire, thus, you can use blood magic - which is what the spell obviously was. A bezoar was the only thing taken - very potent magically on any level, but one of the strongest natural magics one can use against Vampires, thus giving you a perfect motive for not wanting one just laying around where it could be used against you. And finally, you weren't at breakfast that morning, when the break-in took place." Severus stated matter-of-factly, watching Malachai ease himself off the bed and begin the hunt for his clothing.

Malachai scooped up his pants from where they'd been tossed on the floor, examining the metal buttons on the garment's fly as he responded. "There's no proof that the blood on your knob was actually used in a spell. Anyone could've just smeared it on the knob to make you think that blood magic had been used. And before you say anything - "

Severus blinked, closing his mouth as he had in fact been about to interject with a protest.

" - yes, bezoars are very effective against Vampires. But how would I have even known that you had one?" Tomaren had the pants held to his waist, staring at Severus with a sobering expression.

Severus took a moment to think about that. Then he scowled. "I don't know. Maybe you can sense it."

Malachai sighed. "And I wasn't at breakfast because I was in my rooms, responding to a letter I'd just gotten. So yeah, I wasn't at breakfast. But I skip breakfast all the time - and so do you, I've noticed." That earned Severus a raised eyebrow.

Severus folded his arms. The urge to get dressed himself was very strong. Now, afterwards, when there was no pleasure to scramble the senses, he didn't feel very comfortable naked in front of the Vampire, but it was more than just stubbornness that kept him from going for his clothing. He'd been the one in control, and he had to prove that the Vampire didn't affect him at all. This was his room, after all. "Then tell me who did it. I won't believe it wasn't you until I have concrete proof that it was someone else."

Sighing in exasperation now, Malachai buttoned his fly and went hunting for his shirt. "How do I know who did it? I don't know hardly anyone in this place - well, not well enough to tell if they're thieves or not. But I did offer to help you find out who."

Severus just shrugged. The conversation could be over now as far as he was concerned. "Where's my wand?"

"Honestly, it sounds to me as if I'm being framed. Whoever broke in obviously wanted you to _think_ it was me. But who besides Dumbledore knew I was a Vampire? They would've had to know that I was, and not only that, but they had to figure that you would find out that I was a Vampire, or there was no point to making it look like a Vampire had broken in. So someone knows what I am."

Malachai's thoughts were more than a little disordered, making Severus blink rapidly. He hadn't thought of any of this. But of course, that was all ludicrous. "Well then that's impossible, isn't it? No one knows what you are - and who would've not only known that, but planned on me finding out that you're a Vampire? It doesn't even make sense. You said yourself that no one else could've known, therefore it had to be you. You've just confirmed your own guilt."

Malachai didn't answer. He seemed to be staring intently down at the floor, his eyes with a far away look in them. After a few moments, he muttered, "..but who would've known..?" under his breath. When he looked up at Severus, he was clearly worried. "Someone else knows." He grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head with hasty, jerky movements. As soon as the dark crown of his head popped through the neck, he was rushing for the door.

Alarmed, Severus stood. "What about my bloody wand?" he called after, holding Malachai's wand out in his hand.

Malachai turned, startled, then swiftly made his way back to Severus and plucked his wand out of the potions master's hand. "It's in your desk," he said quickly, then darted across the room, leaving an enraged but curious Severus in his wake.

"In my bloody desk.. Wanker.." Severus muttered, then went to confirm this. And there it was, in his top drawer, sitting innocently on top of a stack of papers. Snarling, he slammed his desk drawer shut and headed for the bathroom.


	10. Parley

**Another Year, Another DADA Professor**

**Chapter 10, "Parley"**

**(at long last)**

Warnings: rated 'R' for language, mentionings of quasi-rape, and a hand job.

A/N: I will continue to insist that it could be worse, that I could have just let the fic die. Pleasedon'thateme. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and for all the amazing praise that I surely do not deserve. If I can manage to stick to my outline, the fic will be completed in Chapter 12. And then no one can get mad at me for not updating until I break down and do a sequel because I've become too attached to my little vampire OMC. I hope you all enjoy this (long-ass) chapter!!!

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Thursday evening saw Snape headed for home again. He'd successfully avoided Lucius all week, thanking whatever luck that prevailed in helping him there because he hadn't even wanted to _think_ about sex. Doing so only caused Malachai to spin wildly through his mind, and with the Vampire came the inevitable remembrances to having his blood stolen, an odd, forced orgasm, and then committing such a reprehensible crime as rape, only to find that he... hadn't really raped anyone. 

What could have happened to Tomaren in his life to make him enjoy being forced? Did the Vampire fantasize about just that sort of thing? Admittedly, Severus' world view of sex was not exactly what most wizards considered 'normal', and when in certain moods, he would even admit to himself that the relationship he shared with Lucius was probably not healthy… and certainly never ordinary.

There was no getting around the obvious fact that Malachai had enjoyed it though. At first he'd tried to ignore that this was the case, but the guilt wouldn't last. He'd wanted the guilt to last. It wasn't supposed to fade, just as he wasn't supposed to actually want to fuck the Vampire again. Still, anytime his thoughts would turn to the subject of sex, inevitably Severus would get around to wondering what it would be like to do it again. What would it be like to have a willing body underneath him, groaning and sobbing and begging for more while Severus simply worried about his own pleasure for once?

Those thoughts ought to have been irrelevant, as he'd told Malachai they were. There was still the fact that Severus couldn't trust his strange colleague. Malachai may have looked like a pretty young thing out for a shag, but he was in reality a dangerous Vampire who'd never given Severus any reason to trust him. He was a monster, a foreigner, and a liar. Not to mention, he thought of Severus as food, which was not exactly conducive to trust in itself.

Why did he keep telling himself all this? Around and around it went in his head, all the same arguments repeating themselves endlessly before his addled brain. By now it all should've sunken in. Severus should've firmly intended to stay away from the Vampire DADA Professor, and have nothing more to do with the situation, even after the Death Eaters found him at Hogsmeade.

Instead, he found himself taking routes through the castle that would bring him past Malachai's classroom. Meals were spent picking at his plate, eyes sweeping through the great hall like the owls that delivered letters, trying not to make it so obvious that he was studying Tomaren.

The Vampire seemed to be missing his blood supply most grievously. Rather, that was the only thing Severus figured that would account for Tomaren growing so incredibly pale and skinny, with dark hollows deepening around his eyes in just a few short days. When they passed in the hall, Malachai kept his head down, and always seemed in a great hurry to be on his way, as if he were fleeing from something.

Severus hadn't seen Dusty since the day they'd met, and once, mostly as bait, he'd asked after the young animagus. That was the only time he'd seen some of the previous fire in Tomaren's eyes, as he brusquely informed Severus that he hadn't asked, and didn't care. The subject had seemed incredibly sore, more so than Severus would've thought, so he wondered if something had happened between the two of them.

Whatever the case, Dusty was apparently not offering himself up as supper. Daily the Vampire's appearance weakened. Severus wondered if that was why, in the books, the pictures of Vampires were always incredibly pale and gaunt. Maybe photographers could only identify Vampires from Humans when they were half-starved. Indeed, Malachai's skin had begun to look papery, brittle, and white as snow.

He had almost reached the exit to the castle that evening when he realized he was not alone. The doorway that would lead him out onto the grounds was perhaps a hundred feet away, but something wasn't right with the lighting. The only thing letting Severus see the cramped corridor around him was his wand, the tip glowing with a bright light, so still a lot of the stone hall was lost to darkness. Maybe it was that reason that kept him from realizing it so late, but now as he stilled to listen carefully, he realized that something was most definitely off.

Silence assaulted him from all sides. Nothing moved, no light flickered. As far as he could tell, nothing was wrong. Wondering if it was just his imagination, Severus moved forward once more.

This time, he took all of five steps before realizing what was wrong. It wasn't the light that was off, it was the shadow. More precisely, his was not the only shadow moving, and it should've been. He halted abruptly without first slowing, and something on the edge of his light's radius shivered.

"Who's there?" he called sharply, his voice overly loud in the previous quiet. "Show yourself."

Three guesses as to who it was. Severus supposed asking 'who's there' was even a bit foolish of him.

From the darkness bled a slender humanoid silhouette, the arms and head forming as Severus watched. It was peculiar the way it happened, as if the light from his wand was just catching up with the form before it. Then suddenly, the shadow gave way, and the light birthed the figure of a man, color fading into it and giving it full dimension.

Just as Severus had suspected, it was Hogwart's resident monster. Malachai was staring at him, wall-eyed and sickly looking. But, oddly enough, instead of feeling the familiar comfortable annoyance that Severus expected, a new and different emotion was welling up in the face of this most inhuman man: fear.

But it was just Malachai. Just that stupid little git who'd begged Severus to bugger him harder. Instead of the flushed boyish face Severus remembered, however, he was now seeing an aged mask of malice and what was most certainly hunger. Malachai's bloodless lips curled back over white fangs glistening with saliva. Yes, that was probably hunger. The Vampire's eyes roiled in their sockets, so much larger now that the skin had shrunken back away from them.

'_Okay, Severus. Stay calm. He may be a Vampire, but you've got your wand, and you can hex the bloody fuck out of him before he can manage one decent hiss. ..And don't think about how you fucked him. Dear Merlin, do not think about fucking this underfed mummy in front of you… Bollocks. ..Well, that's a horrifying mental image, now isn't it? Proud of your own stupidity, hmm? You know it's bad when even your inner monologue thinks you're a git._'

Severus drew from the part of himself that had allowed himself to stare down werewolves and parade effortlessly before Voldemort after turning spy, and managed not to step back in horror. "What do you want?" he challenged, amazed at how steady his voice sounded.

"Bet you're regretting screwing me now, huh?" Malachai asked, following up with a small, crazed giggle that cracked his face in a toothy grin.

Fuck. He sounded utterly insane… looked it, too, because that wide, frenzied grin was not going away.

"If you are referring to your less than desirable appearance, then yes, it had crossed my mind that I'd rather shag Flitwick than some ancient dried up crypt escapee. You look more zombie than man. Have you perhaps contracted leprosy?"

Malachai hummed tunelessly a moment, head tilted in mock-thought. "No," he finally decided, "I'm just hungry."

"I told you to do something about that days ago," Severus chided condescendingly, tightening the grip on his wand just in case.

"Hm, yes, so you did. But, I have to stay here, you see. Can't clue anyone in on what's going on. Must wait until the weekend."

Severus laughed humorlessly before he could think better of it. "You're worried about people finding out you're a Vampire looking like that? No worries there, I assure you. If anything, the Egyptologists will be knocking on Dumbledore's door in a few days, but I doubt they'll think you a Vampire."

"Cute," Malachai uttered dryly, "Have I ever told you how much I admire your wit?"

"There's always time to start."

"I don't look this bad during the days, silly. But now, when no one's around, I must conserve what little blood remains in my body."

Severus didn't reply. He was still a little stunned from being called 'silly'. That was a first. Though at least Malachai wasn't calling him Sunshine.

Malachai pressed on, turning his gaze away from Severus to some point on the wall, his hair swinging over his shoulder and obscuring part of his waxen face. "When I came here, it was pre-established that I would only go to feed on the weekends in Hogsmeade. If it were easier to think, I'd be able to remember why exactly that was so important." He let out a shaky breath, which Severus found odd, because he'd never seen the Vampire draw breath except to speak.

"But at this rate, I'm not going to last until the weekend," Tomaren said ominously, turning his chilling visage back on the potions master. "Unless I feed."

Tomaren's eyes widened a bit, and he took a soft step closer. It became obvious who exactly Tomaren had decided was going to become the meal, and thus what Severus had to do. "_Stu_-" he began quickly, only to be cut off by a cold thin hand plastering itself over his mouth. Severus instantly grabbed the Vampire's hand with his free one, tearing at the papery skin with his fingers, while his other hand was wildly trying to stake Tomaren with his wand.

"Ha ha, can't do a spell if you can't speak!" Tomaren caught Severus' wand hand easily, and suddenly it was like fighting against steel again. He struggled with all his might, but Tomaren effortlessly lifted Severus' wand out of harm's way, and the hand across his lips was gripping his jaw tightly.

Severus thrashed as much as he was able, but the Vampire held him firmly in place. He tried in vain to speak around the hand, but no sound could escape the muffler. "Hush," Tomaren chastised, "It'll go easier if you just let me do it. Close your eyes and relax."

If Severus' muffled words were audible, Tomaren would've heard the very ferocious "piss off" that was thrust his direction. Instead, he barely made a peep, and was helpless to do anything when his head was turned and tilted to one side, exposing his throat. In a last-ditch effort to escape, Severus aimed several low kicks to Tomaren's shins, but his angle didn't allow for much leverage, and Severus very much doubted if a normal human would've even felt them. Then he felt the Vampire's silky hair brush against his face as the huge presence loomed closer, and sharp teeth puncturing not his throat but a different spot where neck met shoulder.

As before, there was a moment of pain, which quickly receded. His senses dulled and drifted away, leaving behind a steadily growing pleasure spreading through his now seemingly boneless body. Severus imagined he could see arcs of green light flowing outward from the wound Malachai was creating, arcs that found all his pleasure centers and made them throb.

It grew increasingly difficult to analyze the situation, in fact it seemed to Severus even more difficult than the first time this had happened. The first time was more intense and electric. Now it felt like being drugged. He had a vague sensation of floating, where the man connected to him was the only thing anchoring him to the world he knew. And yes, pleasure again. Pleasure, that instead of consuming him in a raging fire, now seeped through his cells, slowly drowning him. His member was the only stiff part of him, it seemed, constrained by fabric and the yearning to be touched.

Gulping air suddenly as if he really were drowning, he fought against the currents of haze to say something, something vastly important, though even as he moved his lips, the words were lost to him. Still, he retained the impression that there was something in dire need of being said, if only he could remember what it was, and how to speak.

When Malachai pulled away, the loss of contact sent feverish shivers through him. He clutched his arms to make sure he was still solid. Air could not be pulled quickly enough into his lungs, and yet the atmosphere of the corridor was icy and laced with venom.

Eyes saw the corridor anew as if it hadn't been there a second ago. He stared at the damp pitted stones of the wall, and they did not seem familiar. Some part of him still seemed missing, as if it had just drifted away, which incarnated itself into an odd feeling at the back of his thoughts; a small dark object just out of his line of vision.

"How much did you take?" he demanded, though the anger in his voice was strange to his ears, as if he were listening to a recording of someone else.

"Just enough to get me through the week," a voice said, right in his ear. He turned quickly, startled that Malachai was still so close, but found that actually the Vampire was several yards away, leaning against the small doorway at the end of the corridor.

Malachai's skin had grown soft and pink again, and there was a little smile around his rouged lips. "Don't worry, I didn't take much. What you're feeling is normal." The voice was now several yards away with its master.

Severus' body had finally caught up to the fact that he had a hard-on and nothing was being done about it. Wincing, he tried to ignore it as best he could, and schooled his expression into something he hoped was more normal for him. "I'm supposed to feel like a disembodied head?" This must be what Sir Nicholas felt like, Severus wondered. Well, nearly.

Malachai shrugged. "I think so."

"My confidence in you grows by the moment," Severus murmured dryly, shaking his head as the fogginess in his brain lifted. "Shouldn't you know?"

"Well, It's been a long time since I've been bitten."

Severus scrutinized Malachai closely, noticing that the Vampire was acting a little lethargic. "Does anything happen to you?"

"When I bite someone? Well, it's very strange. ..So yes."

That was an odd answer. Severus assumed his conclusion was correct. "So are you feeling a bit like a disembodied head, too?"

"Not really. It's different for the Vampire. I feel kinda… sleepy, but at the same time like I could uproot the entire castle off its foundations one-handed." Malachai lifted himself away from the wall and took a step forward, then wobbled a bit and slumped against the stone wall. "Well, maybe in a few minutes I could."

"So… at first, you're sluggish. Then after that, you get a boost of energy." That was something the Death Eaters needed to know.

"Yeah."

"So what if you have to eat and run?" Severus asked suddenly, as a wave of dizzy euphoria assaulted him out of the blue. What a unpleasant sensation.

"Then you'd better have someone with you to haul your ass out of there," Malachai said, smirking.

Severus let out a short laugh, and then felt ill for it. "I see." Merlin, this was easy. Shouldn't collecting information from an enemy be more difficult? Perhaps his luck was that Malachai didn't seem to understand that he _was_ an enemy.

"Do you now?" Malachai muttered cryptically.

Severus' head felt entirely too heavy. Gravity had increased itself to intolerable measures. There wasn't anything to do besides give in to the pull, he decided, and the last thing he remembered was the sensation of slowly falling. Down and down and down.

* * *

Severus was tired of waking up and feeling as if he'd never gone to sleep. It was the same this time. He awoke, with no knowledge of when he'd gone to bed or how he'd gotten there, feeling restless – not tired, but nevertheless like he hadn't slept at all.

And Malachai was in bed with him. A glance told him sleeping like the dead, no less. He tried to summon the usual irritation, but it just wasn't as strong. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and now Severus didn't mind him so much. He didn't even feel particularly angry for being fed off of again.

But it wasn't for lack of trying. Severus got up, kicking aside the covers in frustration, lit the lamps, and began pacing his room. It was his, at least, not Malachai's.

_He molested me,_ he reminded himself, _I had to cancel classes, which is simply not done unless under extreme circumstances. He made me like what he did. And I raped him._

Merlin, he couldn't believe he'd done that. Even if Malachai had insisted that he'd enjoyed it, that he hadn't been raped – which Severus still had trouble believing – Severus had begun the situation with that in mind. As far as he was concerned, he'd committed rape.

It hadn't made him feel any better. Later, he couldn't imagine what he'd been thinking. When had that turned into a good idea? Severus had done many despicable things in his life among the Death Eaters, but that didn't make adding a few more to the list ok. It should've been the opposite.

Traitorous thoughts were creeping into Severus' mind. Malachai looked desirable, laying there in sleep. His features had smoothed into the face of the young man Severus had once thought him to be. His hair fanned out across the pillow prettily. A thin, graceful arm draped over the blankets, baring a creamy white shoulder to the air.

_Maybe he didn't break into my office_.

"Fuck." That was all that could be said, really. There was something wrong with his mind! These thoughts were not natural! He did _not_ like Tomaren. He did not find him so desirable that it was… distracting.

Well, he hadn't yesterday. Severus was glad for his nightshirt to hide his growing arousal, from himself as much as the sleeping man in his bed.

Something had been done to his mind. That was all he could believe. But he couldn't tell when these false ideas had taken root within him. He was missing a large gap of time in his memory, from last night till now.

The clock told him it wasn't yet dawn. It was, however, bloody bollocky cold. So Severus distracted himself by making a fire. His wand was laying out on his bedside stand. Did Malachai no longer think him a threat? He used the menial chore to keep himself from thinking too deeply on his currently disturbing change of heart.

After the fire was lit and had taken hold of a log, Severus returned to the bedside. He stood over Malachai, thinking, wondering.

Severus raised his wand, comfortable from years of use in his hand, and aimed it over the Vampire's heart. He tried to summon the anger he'd felt in the days before, when he'd have gladly used the killing curse on the Vampire if he could've kept it a secret from Dumbledore.

He found he no longer had the slightest inclination. As soon as he so much as thought about using the curse, all will vacated him instantly. In that moment it would've been easier to kill Voldemort, who had already survived the killing curse once, than speak the words against the Vampire who had so tormented him over the past weeks.

With a sigh, Severus placed his wand back on the nightstand. Something was very wrong with him. These emotions were not ones he'd come to on his own terms, but rather foreign things that had been stitched neatly into the pattern of his mind. But not stitched so well that he could not see the seams.

"Damn you," he whispered down at the slumbering Vampire, wishing his words reflected some inner conviction. Severus did not like feeling helpless.

When the fire call came several minutes later, Severus was still staring down at Malachai. At first, the sound of swelling flames didn't move him, but then he realized what they meant when happening so dramatically, and he moved quickly to block the view of the room from the fireplace with his body. Bloody cold dungeons. Who would be calling him at this hour?

Lucius' irritated expression bled into the flames, and Severus blanched. Better than Dumbledore, but only for different reasons.

"Severus."

"Lucius."

"Mind enlightening me as to why you didn't come home last night?"

_didn't come home last night_

_Home._ Lucius had called Severus' house his..

He couldn't think. He couldn't analyze that as he would have liked. There was a Vampire sleeping in his bed, and his shoulders were _naked_.

"Severus." Lucius barked in irritation.

Severus focused again on the man's head in the flames. "I…" Merlin's balls, he didn't have an explanation ready for this.

Behind him, to his great horror, Malachai let out a waking noise.

Lucius' sharp eyes darted to the right, as if he could see past Severus. "What was that?"

Severus covered his face with his hand. Where was the point in trying to stop this? "That was Malachai," he muttered from behind his palm.

Lucius' stern visage arched a brow. "The _Vampire_..?"

Severus didn't look up from his hand. "How many 'Malachai's do we know, Lucius?" he asked irritably.

"_I_ don't know any," Lucius reminded him icily. "Apparently you know one."

"Who are you talking to.." Malachai called behind him, and then Severus heard the bed sheets rustle as he moved. "Oh. The fire. Well that's perfectly alright then." There was a dull thump as Tomaren apparently resumed his sleeping position.

Severus cringed. His hand moved slippery hair out of his face.

"Have you gone insane?"

"Yes."

Lucius' voice lowered. "Tell me this is part of your plan. Tell me this isn't what it looks like, because if it is, then perhaps _I've_ gone insane."

"We're all insane," Severus murmured, opening his eyes but not looking into the flames. "But the last thing I'm going to do is act like a guilty adolescent." The next words were very difficult, and spoken barely above a whisper, with the strong hope that Malachai would not hear. "Plans will go on as intended. Nothing has changed."

"Oh no, Severus, _something_ has changed."

Severus glared into Lucius' image at the stern tone in his lover's voice. "What? You can have as many lovers as you want, but I-" he began angrily, but Lucius cut him off venomously.

"He's a _vampire_, you arse!" he whispered with ferocity, "He's not human!"

"I realize that!" Severus hissed back, feeling slightly ridiculous for it, but too angry to really care, "This isn't what you _think_, you don't know what's going on."

Lucius suddenly cooled. "I don't wish to have this discussion here. You _will_ come home tonight and we will talk then."

Another protest welled in Severus' throat, but Lucius ended the call just then.

Severus rose to his feet swiftly, rounding on the bed and glaring at Malachai. The Vampire was awake and watching him.

"So who's Lucius?"

"_Now_ you ask that question," Severus snapped, anger and frustration bubbling within him. "Normal people ask these things _before_ they decide to pursue someone, you know."

"Oh." Malachai was completely unashamed. "Well, no one told me you had a lover."

Severus' eyes widened. He could imagine him pouncing on Sprout in some corridor, demanding to know why the woman hadn't told him Severus had a lover named Lucius.

He imagined Malachai asking Dumbledore about it.

Severus thought fast, trying not to panic. "He's… he's not my lover."

Malachai laughed. "What? You just sure as hell confirmed he was. And _he_ seemed interested to know why you hadn't come home last night. I had no idea, Severus." Those blue eyes glittered mockingly at him.

"Fine, you win." Severus' expression was grim. He found an explanation quickly. "No one told you about him because no one knows about him. I'm a very private person, and I don't believe in mixing my personal life with that of my career. Besides which, not everyone is so accepting…."

Malachai was grinning at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing… and 'nothing' makes you grin?"

"It's just cute to see you so defensive." The grin renewed itself.

Severus ignored this, determined to come to his point. "Do not speak to anyone else of what you have seen. I do not wish rumors to begin." He gave Malachai the stare that gave first years nightmares.

"Because no one knows you're gay." Malachai seemed unaffected.

"That is not how I'd put it, but-"

"You're in the closet."

"Excuse me? This is about my _career_."

Malachai's grin split his face in two. "You are! You're just like Draco. Do you occasionally appear in public with Sprout, so that no one will be the wiser?" Severus balked at this, stepping closer to the bed with a threatening posture. Malachai went on, seemingly oblivious. "Or do you just hide behind the greasy old git routine? I bet that's it. I bet no one suspects, because everyone just sees you as the scary old potions master. No wonder he hasn't got a wife, who'd marry him?"

"I hate you," Severus replied weakly. Truthfully, he did rely on that quite a bit. It was ironic that Malachai hadn't himself cared. "Why didn't that stop you then?"

Malachai sat up straighter, shifting his legs under the folds of the blanket before answering. "You don't want the answer to that."

"What?" Severus' eyes narrowed and found his wand, just where he left it.

"I _look_ for that, Severus. When I go places, I never stay in one place for very long, it's the nature of survival, but after I get there, I look for the man who's always glaring from the shadows, you might say. Who holes himself up in his little dungeon, where he is king, and where no one can touch him."

Severus was insulted. It had a ring of truth to it, but he didn't like being described that way.

"I know your type. You're blunt, and harsh, and brutally honest with people. You see people who walk around deluding themselves that they're great, that the world's great, that everything is filled with sunshine and smiling faces, and you feel it's your duty to inform them of their gross overestimation of the state of affairs."

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, raising a brow at Tomaren. If the Vampire expected him to be impressed, he was in for a let down. "So you've guessed my big secret. I hope you're proud. But what are you saying, that you find an antisocial hermit and make it your quest to get into his robes?"

Malachai laughed. Severus didn't see anything funny about the situation, so he sat there stone-faced until the Vampire sobered and looked at him again. "Yes, exactly. That way, I can have a blood donor I can get to, should hunting in the area prove… unsatisfactory."

"So you're telling me that you're using me. Which I already knew."

Malachai just nodded. "But I've answered your earlier question. I'm using you, and it's because you're the one out of the public eye. You suffer silently." Malachai's grin turned to a smirk. "Well, not _silently_…"

"I see," Severus' lips pressed into a thin line. He was tired of listening to this. "I'm … convenient. Someone you don't have to woo." It hurt his pride a little more than he thought it should have.

"What?" Malachai gave him a shocked look. "You make it sound easy! You make it sound like I haven't been busting my ass trying to even get you to the point where I can stay in the same room as you!" His index finger made an accusatory jabbing motion through the air at Severus, "It shouldn't have been this hard, but you've hated me from the start, over the office thing. I wasn't expecting having to contend with that. Most of your types… they're lonely. They give in easy, especially when it's a pretty young thing like me."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I'm not the type you thought I was."

Malachai shook his head ruefully. "You know, I'm just realizing that. I think that's why I like you."

"You like me."

"Yeah."

"But you just said you were using me."

"That was my earlier motivation. Now I see I went after completely the wrong staff member." Malachai winked at him.

Severus tried very hard to hate him. It didn't work. It should've been easy… the man was winking at him. It was so… cheesy. This surrender that was taking place inside him was a sickening thing, but he couldn't even hate that. He felt… complacent. No, that was the wrong word. Something about the word 'complacent' did not seem to accurately express the intensity of his erection.

"Exactly whom do you think you should have gone after?"

"Filch, probably."

Severus felt ill. He must've looked it, too, because Malachai laughed, though it sounded slightly self-depreciating in nature.

"Malachai, Filch is not your type. And if Filch _were_ gay, he'd probably end up with a 'greasy old git' like me. What a pair we'd be." Now _that_ was depressing. The Vampire beside him laughed, though now he looked ill too. "Thus, nor am I your type. You're supposed to have some nice vampiric Dusty in your life; some blonde Norse barbarian who's two thousand years old and flexes his muscles for good conversation."

Malachai slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sudden laughter that was shaking his shoulders. The sheets slipped down from under his arms and pooled at his lap, exposing a nice expanse of creamy white flesh. Unable to help himself, Severus' eyes traced the planes of his torso, eyeing his rosy pink nipples and hairless, bone-white skin as if it were an illusion to be distrusted. Malachai was not a classic male beauty; he had none of Lucius' strong chest and pectorals, and he was skinny enough to be mistaken for a very flat-chested girl.

Not that that particularly mattered.

Severus watched Malachai's face for a moment and finally placed the Greek features he should've noticed earlier; but for the paleness of his skin and those infuriatingly blue eyes, it was obvious. The nose, the cheekbones, the forehead, the full, sensual mouth were all recognizably Mediterranean.

"I couldn't stand a man like that," Malachai intoned huskily, startling Severus out of his reverie. He leaned in closer, as if expecting a kiss. "I need someone intelligent."

Severus leaned in as well, enjoying the vampire's nearness for a moment before he delivered his line. "To make up for your own meager intellect, of course," he said sweetly.

Visibly grinding his teeth, Malachai sat back and twisted his lips into a grimace. "You see? Why would I want deserved worship from a handsome man when I can have a nasty old bastard like you insulting me while contemplating his hard on?"

That sobered Severus some. He lowered his gaze, supposing it was now or never. "Speaking of which…."

Malachai gasped a little. "Going to ask me to pleasure you? You're shameless," he insisted, though instead of sounding upset, he seemed more titillated by the idea.

Severus frowned firmly and looked back up at him. "I was going to say that it was evil, what I did. When I raped you."

Surprise showed on the Vampire's features, and then he looked concerned. "I told you; you didn't rape me. I could've stopped that at any time."

"How?" Severus demanded sharply, angered.

Malachai stifled a snicker. "I'm a Vampire. We're stronger, faster, and just generally more talented than humans."

"Generally more talented," Snape repeated dryly, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Not to mention, more egotistical."

Malachai nodded, as if there were nothing wrong with this. "Believe me, I should know; I started out human. Compared to me then, being this is incredible. I'm stronger than the best weightlifters, faster than Olympic runners, and the magical power I wield is enough to make Albus blush."

Severus frowned and folded his hands in his lap so as not to strangle the man. "Now you're being mendacious. Vampires have never shown a great aptitude for magic. I've only ever seen you show a modicum of magical ability." He snapped, realizing he sounded harsher than he'd intended, but not caring. There was no way he was going to let Malachai get away with calling himself stronger than Dumbledore. It just wasn't possible, and the very idea offended him.

"I wasn't talking about wizard's magic," Malachai corrected quickly, watching Severus apologetically. "I was talking about blood magic. I only meant that I can do things that wizards can't."

Severus let this sink in, though his expression did not change. Blood magic was a sore subject for him since the Vampire had crashed into his life. "So you'd say you're fairly adept at this type of magic." He was thinking ahead again, to Voldemort's intent. Lucius had said that Malachai was powerful and influential, but now that he was getting to know Malachai better, he was having a hard time with that image. It seemed to suggest a Vampire who radiated power; some sophisticated, wizened diplomat. Malachai, however, was none of these things. He was egotistical and acted very young, and there was nothing about him that suggested sophistication or power.

Malachai nodded. His expression turned hopeful. "Yes, but you're right, I'm not very good with wizardry. I was never very good at it."

"And you haven't improved?"

Shaking his head, the Vampire seemed to relax. Apparently he thought himself forgiven for his earlier mistake. "It's actually something that fades with time. The less human we become, the worse we seem to get in our wizardry abilities."

"Oh. I suppose that would make sense," Severus replied, though truthfully he had no idea. "But you are powerful? In your own right?"

Malachai shrugged. "Depends on what you compare me to."

Severus tried not to let his frustration show, but it was difficult. He supposed he would just have to trust the Death Eaters' information. "Alright. Nevermind; it isn't important."

Something was niggling in the back of his mind, and it might've been guilt. He looked at this pretty boy who seemed utterly at ease and confident in his presence, and he felt bad. These new emotions he lumped into the pile with the other false ones that had been forced upon him by who knew what - Malachai himself, his blood magic, probably a combination of both - but knowing them for what they were didn't help the unease he was suddenly feeling about this whole situation.

If he wanted to be honest with himself - odd, how it was so difficult sometimes - it had started with Lucius' fire call. He'd told Lucius that nothing had changed, but obviously that had been false. He'd said that his plans would go along as promised - and they would have to, or he could be risking more than he could afford to - but he didn't really want to turn Malachai over.

He realized that as of this morning, he suddenly cared very much that Malachai lived. Why were these emotions bombarding him?

For a moment, he considered a plan for turning Malachai into a double agent within Voldemort's ranks like he was, and then realized how irrational that was. He couldn't afford to risk his own life, he reminded himself. But how good were the odds of Malachai agreeing to help Voldemort, knowing as he did that Malachai considered himself Albus' friend? Did he already know of Voldemort? Could he be Albus' friend and not know what was going on?

He looked at Malachai, who seemed content to sit in silence and look back. Malachai had seen him naked. Had he noticed the Dark Mark on Severus' arm? He recalled Malachai mentioning death eaters before, but that didn't nessisarily mean he knew as much as he'd let on.... There were too many questions that needed answers, and Severus had no way to find out anything without giving himself away.

Severus tried a new tactic. "How long have you known Albus?"

Malachai smiled wistfully, as if remembering. "A long time," he said, looking as though he would laugh. His eyes focused on a point over Severus' shoulder. "I met him when he was just a boy. When we last met, he was still a young man. It was quite a shock to see him this time; so much time had passed. It made me feel old."

Eyeing Malachai askance, Severus figured it couldn't hurt to ask. "How old were you when you met?" He was more than a little surprised to hear that Malachai was even old enough to have known Dumbledore as a boy.

"I don't know; old."

Brows shooting up towards his hairline, Severus sat forward a little. "You were old when he was young? How old?"

"I don't know." The Vampire shook his head, "Honestly, I don't. I can't remember how old I am. I can't remember when it was that I was born, or when I was turned; I only remember that I wasn't much into adulthood when it happened."

"When you say 'turned', you mean 'became a Vampire'?"

"Yes, that's what it's called." Malachai's eyes still held a distant glaze to them. "I doubt I would've remembered how it had happened if not for the Vampire who sired me - I still see him now and again."

"Have you ever done that to someone else?"

"No; not yet. I haven't had the desire to." Malachai shifted in the bed, stretching one leg out beside Severus so that it just touched his knee, but he didn't seem to notice.

Severus certainly did. His absent touch was electric; it made him want more. But it also made him realize that he hadn't looked at the clock in what felt like an eternity.

He stared at the hand a little more than halfway between "dawn" and "breakfast". The best thing would be to get Malachai back to his own room before anyone would be up to notice. "It's getting late."

Malachai's weight on the bed lifted, and Severus turned to look just as the Vampire dropped himself into Severus' lap, winding skinny arms around his neck. "Don't you mean 'early'?"

Severus pushed at the little arms, but felt not one iota of resistance. He tried again with the ribs, and again nothing gave, even with the considerable strength advantage he should've had. "You _are_ strong."

"Toldja. I could've gotten away easily before those ropes ever appeared."

Oh Merlin, that. "You really liked that. Me forcing myself on you."

"Just as much as I like any other kind of sex," Malachai responded cheerfully.

That caused a bit of relief. Severus wasn't sure he would've been comfortable having to play that role every time.

_What did I say 'every time' for?_ Bollocks. This was not good.

Laughter brought him back to Malachai's face. "Don't look so worried, Sunshine."

Bloody bollocky hell. Not 'Sunshine' again. "Don't call me that. And would you get off of me? You may be small, but you're not that light. You need to get back to your own room."

Malachai shifted, but not to get up. Severus found himself staring down at the creamy expanse of the Vampire's neck. It took all his control not to map the smooth surface with kisses.

'_Honestly, get a hold of yourself, man. Think about who you are._'

Severus frowned at the thought, and arched his head away. "I don't think you want anyone seeing you leaving my rooms," he added gravely. His hands had moved to the sheets, and he found himself keenly aware that they were not touching Malachai. It was all he could do to keep them away.

Another thought suddenly occurred to Severus. He looked down, and found himself staring down at the Vampire's half-erect cock. Behind Malachai were the blankets he'd abandoned in favor of Severus' lap. "Where did your clothes go?"

Malachai made an irritated noise. "You are so obsessed with clothes. It's not healthy."

Severus watched with detached fascination as he fisted Malachai's length. The Vampire moaned throatily and gripped him tighter, shifting to give Severus better access. His cock stiffened and grew rapidly within Severus' hand, and as the skin grew rosy, heat began to radiate from it. It was the only part of Malachai that ever seemed to get warm. He pumped the shaft with slow, experimental strokes, listening to the smaller man groan as he threw his head back and bucked his hips.

Severus didn't know why he was doing this. Certainly, he'd just told Malachai to leave. And now he was initiating things. This was wrong. He knew he ought to stop, but he didn't.

* * *

Morning classes were spent in a constant state of distraction, though they went noticeably better than the last few days' were. Malachai was always on his mind, whether he was shouting at a student over an assignment, shouting at a student for being disruptive, or shouting at a student for generally being stupid.

At least classes were again productive.

All he could think about was Malachai. All morning, warm fuzzy thoughts about a Vampire. It wasn't right.

At lunch, he took the new route he'd been using that took him past the Defense room, and pushed Malachai back inside as he'd come walking out, ignoring his surprised squawk as Severus propelled them both inside the classroom and shut the door.

"Alright, tell me what's going on."

Malachai recovered quickly, smoothing down his second hand robes and staring at him as if he'd gone mad. "Hello to you too, Sunshine."

"Go to Hell. Tell me what's going on."

Malachai looked thoughtful, tapping his chin with one finger. "Before or after I go to Hell? Does your floo connect with Hell? I wouldn't be that surprised…"

Impatience swept over Severus' features. "I know you know what I'm referring to. Tell me where these aberrant thoughts are coming from. They bloody well aren't my own," he snapped.

"What aberrantl thoughts? You mean wishing I were in Hell? I can see your problem; you'd be so lonely if I weren't around." Malachai batted eyelashes at him.

Severus grabbed hold of the Vampire's shoulders and shook him. "You know what thoughts I mean! Ever since I woke up next to you this morning…" he broke off suddenly, glancing around him, with the horrible thought that he'd just said that at a dull shout, and anyone could be around, listening. The room was empty, however. He steered their bodies further in, away from the door. When he looked back to Tomaren, the Vampire was smiling at him.

"I like that. 'When I woke up next to you this morning.' Didn't that sound nice? You should have more cause to say that." A boyish hand ran over Severus' hip, then settled at his back as Malachai moved in closer.

Severus couldn't really think of a good reason to push him away, so he didn't. It lit a yearning inside him that swept away all concepts of 'unnatural', for what could be unnatural about wanting this body flush against his own? What could possibly be wrong about any of this, when his brain and his prick were telling him it was so very right? He ground his newfound arousal into Malachai, hip to hip as they were, and why shouldn't he? This, something within him realized, was where he belonged.

Breath coming quicker, Severus' hands fought to find Malachai's body amongst all that black material. "Yes, very nice," he seemed to agree, though even he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with what Malachai had said, or commenting on the current state of things. Malachai looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, pressing back against him, eyes knowing and predatory.

"Still," Severus managed, after great effort, "It's not… normal. I wasn't having these thoughts before… before last night." Malachai leaned in then, and let out a throaty little moan, directly into Severus' ear. "Not that… I'm complaining, mind," Severus amended, one hand cupping the Vampire's rear to draw him closer, the other fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

Malachai began undulating against him, rolling his hips in small waves. His arms wound around Severus and clung to him tightly. "You'd better not be," he whispered, and something about his tone made Severus suspect that he wasn't the only one having trouble thinking.

"But… still," Severus pressed, determined to find his answers, "This is your doing, isn't it? What did you do to me?"

"It's a… bond that develops." Malachai finally responded, though he wasn't looking at Severus, and his forehead was pushed against the wizard's shoulder. "Between hunter and prey. It's because I fed from you twice."

Severus was sure that this news would've been a significant surprise, had he been in a better position to care. "I really hate Vampires," he uttered fiercely, giving up on the puzzle of Malachai's clothing and deciding instead to free his own cock. "So does that mean it affects you too?"

Malachai nodded fiercely, letting go of Severus to help him with his buttons. Severus was suddenly angry with himself for wearing all this complicated clothing. He had to take off two layers of robes to get to his pants, which just had to be the most ridiculously frustrating task ever.

Just as he'd shucked the outermost layer and thrown it to the floor, he heard an angry meow somewhere off to his right. Slowly dragging his eyes up to the room in dread, Severus noticed the angry-looking Siamese trotting down the stairs that led to Tomaren's office.

The cat yowled again, louder, in obvious discontent. Though Severus had stilled, Malachai was still working at his buttons. "Fuck off," the Vampire offered, not looking up from his task. Severus' ardor had cooled suddenly very quickly, and he put a hand on Malachai's shoulder to stop him as he watched the little cat sit on the third step up. Severus recognized Dusty's glare from some time spent around Minerva's feline form, and two guesses as to why he was angry.

"Malachai, stop."

The Vampire looked up at him, then straightened and turned to Dusty. "Do you _mind_?" he asked, with greater irritation than Severus had ever previously heard from him.

Severus watched the cat glance from them to the door of the classroom, and back, expectantly. Something unspoken seemed to be passing between Vampire and animagus, and then Malachai growled angrily, "Turn into a human and open the damned door yourself. You're not incapable."

The cat made a low rumbling noise in his throat. Severus glanced back at the door. "Do you really want a human Dusty roaming the halls?"

Malachai sighed, and let go of Severus completely. "I don't want Dusty roaming the halls, period. Let me go escort him back to my room… you could come with me, and then we could go on to lunch together?" He looked back to Severus hopefully.

Shaking his head, the potions master frowned. "I don't think it would be wise to be seen together."

Watching Malachai's face begin to cloud over with emotion, Severus arched an eyebrow, expression molding into one of dry composure. "Don't you think it would look a tad suspicious?"

"You don't have to be so cold about it," Malachai mumbled unhappily, folding his arms across his chest.

With a derisive smile, Severus shook his head. "This is the way I am. If you are going to continue this association that you have been so persistent about with me, you must accept that."

"'Association'," Malachai repeated despondently, "Right."

Sighing, Severus let some of the hauteur from his expression slip. "Listen to me," he steadied his gaze onto Malachai's youthful face until the Vampire met it. "This is who I am," Severus continued, planting a hand on his chest meaningfully, "Cold, blunt, and judgmental. Accept it, or leave. But don't think that it means that I don't feel something for you. I do. Whether or not this something is entirely natural seems to be a moot point. I welcome your presence now. Your touch affects me like nothing else. Your eyes reflect the truth I don't want to face. I cannot turn away from you, and I do not want to." Severus watched Malachai's face break into a smile, his eyes lighting up with delight. Guilt panged within him anew as he thought ahead to the weekend. "But surely you understand why we cannot suddenly be seen skipping arm-in-arm down the hallway together."

Malachai's posture turned serious again. "This isn't just about the whole 'you being in the closet' thing though, right?"

Severus pulled a sour face. "Your eloquence stuns me. But no, this isn't just about that."

The Vampire nodded, manner turning mild. "Alright then. I grudgingly accept your terms. However…"

Oh, now suddenly Malachai sounded as if he were negotiating a business deal. His perversity made it hard not to smirk. "Yes?"

"I do so under protest. And. I want lots of secret rendezvous. You can't talk about my eyes and expect to get off scot-free."

Severus was certain it was no longer within his capabilities to resist the Vampire physically as well as mentally and socially. Two down, as the saying went. The only thing he had left was his public life. "Alright," he agreed, trying not to smile.


	11. Time

**_The Snapefic, CH 11/12 "Time" (PG)_**

Summary: In this chapter, Severus and Malachai have a discussion, Severus and Lucius have a fight, and Saturday night finally comes. Severus sneaks down to Hogsmeade to keep an eye on the proceedings, only to discover that he obviously isn't as in control of things as he'd thought.

A/N: Yes, I will actually finish this story. Chapter 12 should be the last, and is currently half written. Thanks goes to everyone who begged me not to abandon this fic, because that made me actually log in to and upload the darn chapter. My livejournal (thesnapelyone) is a better place to look for updates - I'm not too active at this archive any longer.

* * *

They met again after classes ended that day in the Defense classroom.

Severus hadn't told Malachai he'd be coming, but that seemed an unimportant detail. And in fact, when he'd arrived, Malachai had been sitting at his desk, looking expectant and completely unsurprised to see him. Severus came on the pretense of desiring the other man's presence, though truly it was Friday evening, and he couldn't put off finding out Malachai's weekend 'plans' any longer before leaving the castle grounds for home.

"Are you going hunting tonight?" Severus asked, lowering his eyelids and lightening the question with the hint of a smile. It wouldn't do to sound too interested, of course. He could only hope that he wasn't being too obvious – Severus had needed to deceive a lot of people in his lifetime, but he had never enjoyed being in this kind of situation. 'This kind' he supposed referring to their 'bond', or whatever it was he shared with Malachai.

Right now, Malachai was smiling at him. They were both standing by his desk, which was piled in a disorganized mess of parchment, quills, and textbooks. He had brutally stabbed Severus' personal space to death, and their arms were touching in a cool line down the potions master's side. Soon though, in the little matter of a day, that face – those cerulean eyes – would be contorted in a mixture of pain and rage, no doubt, as the Death Eaters attacked, should Malachai resist them. Yes, Severus Snape knew he was an utter bastard.

"I prefer to call it a 'nomadic gathering of nectar', but whatever," Malachai grinned cheekily, to which Severus rolled his eyes. Something about Malachai's grin said he knew that would happen, and he chuckled as he shook his head. "I'm going out tomorrow. Once today is over, I am going to sleep, and I am not getting up until that damn sun is satisfactorily down Saturday night. I'm tired of being up during the day; it's very draining."

Severus tried not to look like a ravenous wolf as he grabbed onto that tidbit of information. "Are you saying you're weaker during the day?"

Malachai gave him a questioning look, and Severus spread his hands defensively. "I'm just curious. We wizards are sadly lacking in any real knowledge about Vampires." He gave Malachai his best professor imitation, hoping he sounded like a drab intellectual hungry for knowledge. That was probably how many people already saw him anyway.

"Yes, I'd noticed that when reading through the defense text books," Malachai said with a smirk, "Much to my delight."

Severus gazed sharply at him. "What do you mean, 'delight'? If anything, a defense professor in your position should be eager to impart any knowledge you can to these children. Then at least I can sleep at night knowing they're actually learning something from you."

Malachai took a step back from Severus, bumping the desk with a thigh, staring at him with half-amusement, half- horror. "Are you kidding? Why would I do that? Do you think I should be handing each of them a stake and drawing diagrams of the human chest cavity so they can practice aiming for the heart!"

Severus chuckled. He couldn't help it; Malachai's disgust coupled with the subject was quite amusing. "Actually, that's a good idea," he remarked wryly, enjoying watching Malachai's distress increase. "And mention that garlic will, if not kill them, certainly make them bolt out of the room in a mad panic."

Malachai glared at Severus, his lips twisting in anger, and folded his arms across his chest. This was clearly his 'not amused' pose. "I am not letting any of those spoiled little brats anywhere near that information. I expect you'll want to let them practice on me, too."

Severus paused a moment to get control of his chuckling, then sobered his features and drew his hawk-like brows down in a chastising expression. "This is serious, Malachai. You're their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It's your duty to give them as much tactical knowledge as you can," he said sternly.

"Oh yes, because Vampires are so common in England!" Malachai replied hotly, though his coloring only grew paler. "We're not as stupid as that. You know, if I could've helped it, I wouldn't have come within ten leagues of this continent. Vampires stay the hell away from wizards and all their complicated lives as a general rule – I still don't understand why we are so hated and feared by you when there aren't any around. We're all holed up in old castles and decrepit fortresses in eastern Europe – either that or hiding amongst the vast numbers of muggles in the New World-"

"They call it America now, just in case no one had informed you yet," Severus muttered dryly, unimpressed with Malachai's little rant.

Malachai was forced to pause with this interruption, and looked all the more irritated for it. His eyes had stormed over prettily, and his jaw was clenched with impotent fury, however, after the display Severus had witnessed Thursday night, he couldn't be impressed. Stormy eyes could not compete with men melting from shadow. He was pleased to note that his posture or expression hadn't been impacted by Malachai's tirade, and that he could stand impassively as the Vampire grew increasingly incensed.

"That's not – you're – I mean – " Malachai verbally stumbled, then gave up with a loud irritated noise. "You don't care, in other words."

"Have you met Hagrid?" Severus asked suddenly, derailing the subject entirely. He arched a brow in question, waiting while Malachai's face sought to pick an expression it liked.

The Vampire settled with irritated. "No. I know who he is; you're talking about the Care of Magical Creatures professor, that half-giant guy."

Smirking, Severus nodded. "Yes, 'that half-giant guy'," he repeated, tasting the American slang as if it were poison. "He's had a few particularly vicious encounters with Vampires in his life, you should try your little speech on him. I'd be interested to know how he reacted."

"Alright," Malachai sighed, "So I'm going to insist that prejudice against my kind is wrong, and you're going to insist that it's self-preservation, not prejudice, and really there's no point in arguing about it."

"A very sensible observation," Severus replied, folding his arms as he glanced to the desk full of papers. An odd little symbol in red ink caught his eye, and he reached out a long arm to pluck the parchment from its resting place amongst the others, holding it up to his eyes. In the top right hand corner, Malachai had scrawled an angry red, 'T' and beneath it, 'I can see you put no effort into this travesty. More sources needed,' and below that, there was a little smiley face.

"What is…?" No, actually, the smile was off; the mouth was just a straight line. It was a ... "Disapproving face?" Severus looked up to Malachai, trying not to smile.

Malachai cleared his throat. "I had the advanced students do a paper on a "Dark" being or creature, and how best to combat that creature, using the techniques we'd covered in class. And some little cretins actually picked Vampires, even though I haven't covered them at all," Malachai groused unhappily.

"I cannot believe your attitude towards this. It is important – "

"Yeah, yeah. Important and imperative, blah blah. Thanks to my actions, they didn't have enough information to write a thorough or intelligent report," Malachai commented offhand, grabbing up another unfurled parchment to look over. "Also, I didn't want anyone to be reading things like 'How to Determine if That Guy Over There is a Vampire' and then looking at me funny. Though I think Hermione Granger was trying to tell me something."

Severus glanced over at the parchment Malachai was holding, noting Granger's name at the top, and passing on to the grade. He smirked. "First 'T' she's ever gotten, I'd wager. …Outside my own classroom, of course." Malachai chuckled, and for a moment they were grandly united in a common dislike. Severus read Malachai's red comment aloud. "'I don't believe Vampires have ever held down day jobs, especially not in teaching positions, though I understand your concern. Your theories about magical sunlight are all unsound, and you obviously need more research into the topic.' Oh dear Merlin."

"I thought about adding 'see me after class' so I could club her with a blunt object, but I've already gotten in trouble once regarding a student, and I think Dumbledore's beginning to reach the end of his leash with me."

"So how right was she?" Severus asked, looking up again wryly. He didn't want to disturb any more sore subjects, and Draco definitely was one.

"Spot on, as you Brits say," Malachai grumbled, tossing the paper down. "I don't know where she managed to get her information! I thought for sure I'd gotten rid of all the relevant books from the library, I even got rid of 'Voyages with Vampires', which was the stupidest thing I'd ever read."

Severus' face lit up triumphantly, "I _knew_ that was why you had all those Vampire books. Did you purge the restricted section as well?"

Frowning, Malachai shook his head. "No. I figured the best place for those books would be right where they were, and anyway, students can't get in there without a signed slip from a teacher. So, if they did come to me with the request, I simply refused to grant it."

"…Even on the grounds of research for your own assignment." Severus couldn't hide his smirk then. He couldn't help the thought that if he and Malachai had met as wizards, they might've got on together.

"Yep." Malachai leaned against the desk, eyes drifting absently.

On the other hand, as things stood, "You should be ashamed," Severus admonished, "You're supposed to be preparing these children for the real world when they are thrust into it after graduation. In a world like ours, they're going to need all the defense knowledge they can get, and you're deliberately keeping them ignorant-"

"And what would you do in my place, Severus? Should I teach them all the efficient ways to kill my family, or should I just stake myself and save everyone the trouble?" Unable to contain himself, Malachai began pacing around his desk, though he stopped on the other side when he reached Severus again and ran his fingers through his hair with jerky movements. "Don't tell me you'd go around teaching muggles how to effectively kill wizards."

"Of course not, that'd be ridiculous. But there are Vampires in the world who aren't just silly little strumpets looking for a tumble-"

"What did you just call me!" Malachai demanded in surprise, "I don't know what a 'strumpet' is, but I'm assuming it was meant to insult me, as the adjectives 'silly' and 'little' were used in conjunction with it."

Severus arched a brow, noticing that the angrier Malachai got, the bigger his words got also. Not that 'in conjunction' was the phrase of philosophers, but it was better than 'that guy'. "The _point_ is that while you may be a friend of Dumbledore's who just seduces his prey, there are other Vampires who hurt, maim and kill their victims. Those are the types of Vampires I'm suggesting the children learn to defend themselves against."

"I still don't agree that I should teach anyone how to destroy one. I'm sorry, I just can't help it."

Severus surprised himself by not caring. He didn't want to have a long, drawn out argument. Not with Malachai, anyway. He nodded somberly and reached out to draw Malachai against him. "Of course you can't," he replied, almost fondly.

Battering sense into the Vampire's thick skull would be wasted, Severus suddenly realized, because he'd most likely be gone Monday. Oh, the argument would fit the purpose of Severus appearing innocent to malicious intent, should Malachai be wondering how the Death Eaters found him Saturday night, but it would be pointless to try and draw it out.

A weight of finality settled in Severus' chest as he looked down at the boyish creature staring back at him. So trustful were those bright eyes. Malachai had spent so much time trying to earn Severus' trust that he probably hadn't had the smallest thought that perhaps the Potions Master could not be trusted. How ironic that having his office broken into should work in Severus' favor.

Severus had, of course, been letting the issue of their 'bond' slide with hardly any protest from himself, because there was no future in it. Come Monday, Malachai would either be an enemy of the Light or an experiment of the Dark, and who knew what that would mean for them?

Perhaps, one day, Severus would be at an Order meeting and hear the Vampire spoken of. Perhaps there would be a report that Voldemort had gathered a few Vampires to his cause, and here were there names, and didn't a Malachai teach at the school once? Maybe some day he'd even hear the story of how Shaklebolt and Lupin had been on a raid, and they'd come across the little Vampire. Lupin would watch Severus in his curious way as Shaklebolt recounted how they'd taken the Vampire down. Then Lupin would quietly wonder, hadn't Malachai been a Defense teacher for the school once, while Shaklebolt would show Severus a particularly nasty looking bite wound.

"…Severus? Hey, Sunshine?"

Severus jolted out of his thoughts and glared down at the present-tense Malachai. It felt like looking at an old photograph, as if Malachai were already gone. One could think of it like that, Severus reasoned. He was gone, he just didn't know it yet.

"Don't call me sunshine," Severus muttered half-heartedly.

"You don't sound happy. What's wrong?"

"I never sound happy," Severus reminded him sharply, all the while mapping the smooth, boyish planes of Malachai's face into his memory, tracing the rounded pillows of the creature's lips so that he would always remember. Then he would place the memories in his pensieve, and after Malachai was gone, Severus would allow himself to feel bad. That would be the only time it would be safe to do so.

"True, but you're suddenly not smirking condescendingly at me, and your voice is usually full of disdain." Malachai tilted his head, staring up at Severus with concern. Severus caught the hand that was raising towards his face, and held it just a moment too long before pushing it away.

'_Time to get yourself under control, Severus_.' "Well, if you must know, I'm not happy. I've got to go home tonight, and explain you to Lucius. He's already angry at me, and he's had an entire day to fester."

For a moment, Malachai pouted. He looked ridiculous. "You could have told me you had a lover, you know."

"Perhaps I would have, had I known your plans for molesting me ahead of time. I don't care to have another argument today."

"Alright; neither do I," Malachai admitted, and then he did a strange thing. He turned to face Severus, slipped his arms beneath the Potions Master's arms, and hugged him.

Severus stared down at Malachai for a few moments, wondering what he ought to do about that. The seconds were drawing out awkwardly, so he finally settled for placing a hand to the back of Malachai's head. The hair was as soft as he remembered.

More seconds passed. Severus wondered if he ought to speak. But what would he say? '_I'll probably never see him again,_' he realized, but 'let's shag' seemed a little insensitive.

He was saved by Malachai's soft voice. "I'll miss you."

For a moment, Severus panicked. He almost insisted out loud that Malachai wasn't supposed to know he'd be gone, but managed to calm himself enough to think. Heartbeat drumming in his ears, he stroked the hair a little and tried to sound surprised, which wasn't actually difficult. "What do you mean?"

Malachai's head pulled back from his shoulder but didn't look up at him. "You read my letter; I'm heading back to America."

Severus' hairline lowered a few inches. "Oh yes, the letter from the Vampire in New York." He remembered finding it on his floor later and tucking it away in a drawer. "But when is that happening? Surely not until the school year is over…"

"No, it'll be in a month or so. At first I'd planned on staying here until things had calmed down and sneaking back to America, but what I learned about your office break in convinced me that things aren't safe here."

"You're really convinced that someone else knew you were a Vampire, got into the school somehow, and set the break in up to look as if you'd done it, and all for what? So that somehow I'd figure out you were a Vampire? Listen, I believe that you didn't break into my office, alright? But I do think your theory is full of holes." Severus watched Malachai dubiously.

Malachai shook his head firmly. "You haven't been with me up until Hogwarts. I swear I was being herded onto this continent… it's hard to explain, but from what was happening, the movements of the hunters became too patterned to be coincidence. But, I had no choice, I had to go this way. I was just lucky that I knew someone here who could help me out. If not… if they were herding me as I suspect, I would've undoubtedly hit their trap at the end." Malachai's hands slid upwards, his fingers twining with the ends of Severus' hair. "I couldn't find out much about them, or why in the world they had to drive me across the ocean to trap me, but… Well, like I said, I'm lucky this castle was here."

Frowning up at Severus, the little Vampire began fumbling with his pocket, and then pulled out something, holding his fist out. Confused, Severus held out is hand, and felt cool metal hit his palm.

"What's this?" he asked, even as he was looking down at the aged silver pocket watch.

"My broken watch."

It wasn't that Severus had never seen a timepiece before of course. He hadn't meant 'what's this' so much as 'Why are you handing it to me', but Malachai seemed to think that 'My broken watch' was all the explanation necessary.

Severus cupped the small pocket watch carefully for closer inspection, as if handling it wrong would somehow increase its brokenness. There was no chain left, but he noticed where it would've connected. He stared into the white clock face, tracing the lines of roman numerals and the curls of the watch's hands. They were tiny, elaborate little pieces of metal, shaped into vines of ivy. He turned the timepiece over. The back was bright silver, though little nicks, scratches and dents belied age. Embossed in flowery gothic script were the initials N. and B. "Not yours, then?"

"Hm? No, of course it's mine. Why would I give you someone else's watch?"

Severus paused in his inspection to glare at the Vampire. "Perhaps someone in your little leech family gave it to you?" He realized he was deliberately goading Malachai, which was probably not the best defensive course. Some part of him just felt that Malachai's current state of being was something he'd done deliberately to grate on Severus' nerves, even if it was a ludicrous thought.

From Malachai's expression, Severus' attempt to mock had succeeded. He folded his skinny arms across his boyish chest and flared his irritating little nostrils. "Actually, a mortal - err, muggle - gave it to me."

"And who did he get it from?" Severus tilted the watch back and forth, watching the dim lighting from the room glint across the engraved letters.

"I'm pretty sure he bought it. Why do you ask?"

"Well, these aren't your initials, that's all. It's an idle question, which required no extensive explanations or pouting expressions, I assure you."

"I'm not pouting. This is me being annoyed because you constantly insult me. But actually those are my initials, thank you so much, so you can take your big nose out of my business."

"Your initials are M. T., you stupid twat. If you could actually read you might know this, and don't you dare ever insult my nose again."

"I _can_ read, obviously. Sunshine-"

Severus glared.

"-Has it ever occurred to you that you don't know me all that well?"

Severus blinked. Well, no, truth be told. "Oh." Now, he felt stupid. "You're using a false name."

"Bingo," Malachai confirmed.

"So why have you given me a broken watch? You could have just mentioned you weren't really called Malachai, I didn't need props."

Malachai let out an exasperated sigh. "I wanted you to have it, to remember me by, but really it doesn't matter. I don't care, throw it out if you want," he uttered sourly, and made his way dejectedly for the door.

Severus simply watched the Vampire leave, timepiece still resting in his palm. The door shut firmly before he'd thought of anything to say to that.

Really, though, he oughtn't throw it out, he decided after a few minutes. Soon this useless bit of metal would be all he had to remind him of Malachai; all his nauseating smiles, all the frustration he had caused Severus.

Upon returning home, Severus again found Lucius wearing his clothing and sitting impatiently in his kitchen. If they had been meeting on friendlier terms, Severus might've taken the time to point out to Lucius that he looked very odd in the simple, somber clothing. As it was, Lucius' entire posture shouted 'DISPLEASED' in big letters, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. Severus determined that small talk would not be received well.

He stepped around the table, avoiding Lucius' chair, and parked himself in front of the drinks cabinet. Severus had thought about being the one to speak first, but he could feel Lucius' eyes boring holes into his back, and decided to just let the Death Eater stew for as long as possible.

He'd poured himself a snifter of brandy and settled himself across the table from the blonde, appearing unconcerned with the glare thrust his way. Severus refused to be pulled into a childish argument, so he stayed silent.

The silence didn't last much longer. "Do you have nothing to say at all?"

"What do you want me to say, Lucius?" Severus asked conversationally, sipping his drink as if he had no greater worry at the moment.

"I'd like an explanation," Lucius said slowly, simmering with anger. "First all I hear is you complaining about Tomaren, and the next thing I know you're ignoring an engagement with me to stay at that blasted school and shag him – and may I just point out that I am appalled to think that not only is a Vampire teaching my son, he's also buggering my lover."

"Yes, you've mentioned these concerns before," Severus murmured, eyes on his glass as the light from the kitchen refracted through the liquid. "Though if I were being picky, I would point out that no one's 'buggering' me, as you so charmingly put it."

"Oh no? I suppose he just came to you because he was suffering from nightmares, and needed someone to cuddle up with." Lucius uttered sarcastically.

Severus had to work to contain a smile. That reaction wouldn't do at all except to incense Lucius, but it was a rather amusing image. "Actually, he was just sleeping."

"Really. So, pray tell, what was wrong with his own chambers?"

"I'm not sure." Severus thought of Dusty then, and wondered if the Vampire's sudden animosity towards his friend _had_ impacted his decision to stay with him. He suspected the more likely reason was that Malachai simply wished to annoy him as often as possible. "When I awoke, he was there, and I didn't think to ask him afterwards. I just told him to get out." After the hand job, of course.

Lucius leaned forward across the table, catching Severus' reluctant gaze with his own. "I don't believe a word of that."

"Alright," Severus said, punctuating his unconcern with a shrug of his shoulder, and took another drink. After swallowing, he added, "I'm not terribly concerned with what you choose not to believe, Lucius. You can disapprove of him all you want, but I'm not going to sit here and dignify it by giving some guilty confession. Yes, he's a Vampire, and I 'buggered' him anyway. It wasn't my original intent to acknowledge him any more than strictly necessary between colleagues, but circumstances changed unexpectedly, as they often can."

"So you did bugger him. I thought he was just sleeping."

"Not the same instance." Severus clarified with an arched brow, watching Lucius' frown deepen.

"I thought I'd made it perfectly clear exactly whom you belonged to," Lucius growled, narrowing his eyes and raising a hand to grip Severus' chin tightly.

Severus' eyes widened marginally in indignation. "Unhand me, Malfoy," he said in a low, calm voice.

"Oh, it's Malfoy again." Lucius smiled meanly, his clear gray eyes sparkling with malicious intent. "What happens if I don't? Is your little Vampire going to burst in here and teach me a lesson?"

"I do not understand why you insist on making a connection between us. It was sex; we're not running away together." Severus kept his voice steady and managed not to move, which he found difficult under the circumstances. What he really wanted to do was wrench his jaw free and hex Lucius blind, but it would be an understatement to think that a foolish action.

"That's good," Lucius growled, letting go of Severus' jaw finally. The skin ached where it had been pressed against bone. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of what happens to those who get in the way of Voldemort's plans."

Frowning, Severus drank down the rest of his brandy. "Of course not." A hundred old memories related to that subject flashed before his eyes before he could push them away, none of them pleasant. "The thought had never entered my mind. I fully intend to continue with our plans… in fact, I wanted to tell you to alert the Death Eaters. He will be in Hogsmeade on Saturday night. I would have them ready to go by sundown, were I you."

"This is not my mission, as I am in hiding," Lucius reminded Severus, and sounded a bit bitter about it, "I am merely passing on information. But, I will make mention that they should be in position by sundown, of course. It seems a rather obvious time."

Frowning, Severus contemplated his empty glass. "Well yes, but Ma- Tomaren seemed most interested on getting to Hogsmeade as soon as he could. If they wait too long, they will miss him."

"Duly noted," Lucius replied. He stood up from the kitchen and disappeared from the room. Severus listened to his footfalls as he moved about the house, noticing with small amusement how Lucius acted as if he owned the place. True, Lucius always acted that way, no matter where he was, but it was different here. Or Severus would've liked to think so, once upon a time. Before he'd met Malachai, he would've been over-analyzing the way Lucius was acting, but now he couldn't be bothered to care. The only thing he wondered about now was how long Lucius would be staying here. This new wall between them wouldn't make living together easy, or, Severus mused, pleasant.

Rain pelted the cobblestones and rooftops of Hogsmeade all day Saturday and well into the night. As soon as he could after sunset, Severus took a carriage down to the village outskirts and entered Hogsmeade on foot, donning a large traveling cloak spelled to repel water. It was dangerous, he knew, because Malachai might see him, but all day the thought of just sitting in his quarters, reading, while Death Eaters cornered Malachai and brought him to Voldemort felt wrong. It felt anticlimactic.

It was very hard to see. Rain dimmed the streetlamps and caused buildings still lit up to look hazy and unfocused. Mud squelched under his boots until finally he put a silencing charm on them, and he kept near the lights, with his hood drawn down formidably. The last thing he needed was for Malachai to spot him and think 'easy target'. Getting dragged down some back alley for a meal wasn't a desirable thought to begin with, not to mention what Malachai would think when he found out Severus was here.

What exactly Severus was expecting him to discover wasn't certain, but at the very least Malachai might think he'd tried to get caught on purpose, or something ridiculous like that. Malachai might think he was interested in being a meal, which simply wasn't true. Severus was interested in certain parts of Malachai, but his Vampirism wasn't one of them. Whatever Malachai might think, questions would be unwelcome. And if the Death Eaters tried to approach Malachai while he was taking advantage of Severus in some back alley… well, he didn't want to think about that.

He wasn't sure how he was going to spot Malachai or any of the Death Eaters in this weather, but then again, Malachai seemed very adept at not being seen when he wanted to. Still, there weren't many people out in the streets. Once in a while someone arrived at or emerged from The Three Broomsticks, so he took to hovering near that building, and while doing so, began wondering just exactly how Malachai hunted. Did he just… leap out of the shadows at people and latch onto their throats? Severus assumed not.

If he hunted others the way he had Severus, perhaps it would be best to check inside the pub. He might flirt with his intended prey beforehand. Get a few drinks into them, lure them outside away from the streetlights on the pretense of going someplace quieter….

Merlin, he couldn't have that high of an opinion of the man if he was thinking of him as some sort of hustler. Still, a peek inside couldn't hurt, just so he could definitely rule it out.

Severus dismissed the Hog's Head entirely. He couldn't imagine Malachai interested in any of that sort. Looking around carefully, he wandered over to the door of The Three Broomsticks, and slipped inside.

It wasn't Malachai, however, who stopped him dead in his tracks just in the doorway, so that someone coming in behind him had to make a large fuss over going around him, shaking water off their cloak and harrumphing about muddy-footed rude people.

There, in a table near the bar, was the vivaciously blonde head of Narcissa Malfoy, laughing in apparent delight at something her companion had just said. Her robes were expensive, dry, and colorful. Her wrists, throat and ears sparkled with jewels. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

Across from her at the little table was none other than Malachai, dressed in much better clothes than Severus had thought he possessed – they appeared to fit him, for one thing - and looking as if he talked to rich forty-something women all the time.

Oh sweet Merlin, Narcissa was looking right at him.

* * *

TBC 


	12. Beginnings

Author's Notes: No warnings for this chapter, except perhaps for the surprise ending. L Thanks so much to my beta, killerthecat, for helping me and sticking with me over this long journey, and thanks so much to all the people who read and reviewed. Without my beta and the reviewers to give me encouragement, I would've given up on it long ago. This fic will always have special meaning to me, even if it does have a dreaded OMC (two, even)! snickers So thanks especially to everyone who liked Malachai and Dusty.

**Another Year, Another DADA Professor  
Chapter 12, "Beginnings"**

"Severus," Narcissa called out in her smoky alto, drawing the attention of her companion as well as everyone near the bar.

Bugger. How had she seen his face? Still, she was waving, and Malachai was staring at him with the oddest mixture of surprise and interest on his face. He couldn't bolt now, so he wandered over.

"About time you arrived."

_What?_ Severus stared at Narcissa in what was undoubtedly shock as she pulled out a chair for him.

"I was just telling this gentleman here that I was awaiting your arrival," Narcissa explained, smiling at him with a brilliant flash of white teeth. "Mister… I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names. What did you say it was?"

"Ouzomanopopolis."

Severus arched a dry brow Malachai's way.

"Yes, Mister Ozo.. well, you know. Severus, don't stare like that. He's Greek." Narcissa smiled apologetically to Malachai, then regarded Severus again. "Anyway, he was just keeping me company while I awaited you. So horrible, he is, making me wait like this." Her smile was still brilliant.

"Yes, very ungentlemanly," Malachai said, in a very thick Grecian accent. "Is not right to treat ladies this way."

Severus wrenched his stare from Malachai back to Narcissa. What the bloody hell was she on about?

"Well," Narcissa said, frozen mid smile, expectant, "What kept you?"

It was several moments before Severus could muster the will to speak. "I am sorry, Narcissa.. I was.. detained. At work."

She laughed, a rich sound that would have been sexy had Severus the slightest interest in women at all. "My Severus is so formal, sometimes. Relax, dear," she added, pushing back his hood so it fell against his shoulders, "Mr. Ozo doesn't mind, I'm sure." She leaned in and gave Severus a kiss on the cheek. He could feel the smudge of her lipstick as she pulled back, laughing lightly at his continued silence.

This wasn't Narcissa. Severus' mind worked quickly, fretting over the puzzle pieces. She looked like Narcissa and sounded like Narcissa, though closer he heard subtle differences in pitch and timbre. And furthermore, she wouldn't have known he would be here. No one would have, actually. More importantly, Narcissa wouldn't kiss his cheek or call him dear; she had a husband, after all.

She had a husband.

How had Lucius got a hold of Narcissa's hair for the Polyjuice potion? When had Lucius learned to brew such a thing?

Or was Narcissa in on it, too? She'd always received fair marks in potions. Lucius must've been in contact with her. Hiding with Severus, visiting his wife during the daytimes. Scheming, behind Severus' back. Severus was so startled, he almost said Lucius' name out loud.

Oh, he wasn't going to involve himself since he was on the lam, eh? Severus should've known Lucius wouldn't be able to keep away. Bugger. And that meant Lucius had expected him to come, as well. How had he anticipated that?

Oh no. Lucius thought… Lucius thought Severus had come to sabotage the plans. He'd gone on the mission tonight, disguised, to ensure Severus wouldn't interfere. And the fact that Severus had come made him look guilty. Bugger.

"Well, thank you for waiting with me, Mister Ozo. Severus, hadn't we best be on our way? We don't want to hold our friends up." She smiled graciously at Malachai.

Severus rose, unable to see any other choice, and held out his arm for Narcissa to take.

"Goodbye, Miss Black," Malachai said cheerfully, nigh unintelligible with his thick accent, "Pleasure to be meeting you."

"You too," Narcissa replied with a nod of her head, taking Severus' arm primly and leading him out of the restaurant. Severus risked a glance over his shoulder at Malachai, who wasn't looking their way.

Severus pulled his hood up when they got outside, as did 'Narcissa', and he noticed that her cloak too had been charmed to repel the rain. She lead them away from the Three Broomsticks, in the opposite direction Severus had arrived from. They were heading for the edge of the village, and Severus thought Lucius was going to drag him out entirely when they reached the last few shops, but instead, Lucius pulled him around a building and shoved him with considerable strength against a brick wall. Well, more strength than Narcissa had ever shown.

She glared at him, pointed her wand at herself and muttered a quick charm, and accused him with Lucius' voice.

"Come to warn your little boyfriend, Severus?"

That was beyond disturbing. Narcissa's face, spouting Lucius' voice.

"No, I –"

"Honestly, Severus, why else would you be here? I thought you might try this. We're going to wait right here until they've got the little leech under control, to make certain you can't ruin anything."

"I wasn't planning on ruining anything," Severus protested, inwardly panicking. Why had he come here, if not that? He couldn't think of a reason, and he doubted Lucius would accept, 'I wanted to watch'. Because… Why would he have wanted to watch? What purpose would that have served? It had seemed like a valid enough reason earlier, but…

But he wasn't a man in control of his own mind. Malachai was an alien presence in there, giving him false thoughts of affection and care. That part of his mind had tricked him into coming down here. He would've warned Malachai, he realized suddenly. Lucius was right. He had been about to sabotage their plans.

Something else was bothering Severus. He ignored the feeling of coarse brick against his shoulder blades and looked Lucius-as-Narcissa in the eyes. "Why do you sound so certain he won't agree to come along?"

Narcissa smiled, a deadly snake-smile he'd never seen on her lips before. "Because we aren't asking him his consent. He's going to our Lord as our prisoner."

Something about that didn't make sense. "Don't you think that'll strain our chances of getting the Vampires to agree to an alliance?"

"It would," Lucius agreed, Narcissa's bright eyes sparkling, "If that's what we sought to accomplish."

Oh.

"You look surprised, Severus. Did I leave out that bit?" He fluffed Narcissa's curls and batted her eyelashes at Severus in a frightening fashion. "Silly me, I forget my own name sometimes, I swear."

"What… what do you want him for?"

Narcissa laughed with Lucius' rich chuckle. "The Philosopher's Stone may have been destroyed, but there's more than one way to become immortal."

"Our Lord.. wishes to become a _Vampire_?"

"Not just a Vampire, Severus," Lucius tutted, shaking Narcissa's blonde curls. "If He'd just wanted to become a Vampire, He could have picked up any one lurking around, and avoided all this extensive trouble. No, we have found Him not simply any Vampire, but Nicodemus Bekyros de la Roche, a Shadowmancer and Master Vampire."

Severus instantly thought of Malachai's broken watch, which he'd stuffed in the back of a drawer. N. B., Nicodemus Bekyros. "So that's his name."

"You knew he was using a false name?"

"Obviously, Lucius," Severus snarled, mind catching up with his mouth as he realized how thoroughly he'd been lied to. Lucius' mild irritation, flitting across Narcissa's delicate features, was a joy to see. "Just how thoroughly have I been lied to?"

Narcissa sneered, then watched him with cool indifference. "Nicodemus did not break into your office."

"Who did?" Severus asked, though he wondered if it mattered. Things were suddenly falling into place with that simple knowledge.

"Rocelyn Borgin's mother is an old friend. While she was at the school on an 'emergency visit' to her daughter, she planted the blood, broke into your office, and stole the bezoar."

"What was the purpose of that?" Severus glared and folded his arms. Malachai had been telling the truth, the entire time. The thought did not settle him.

"Why, so you'd become convinced it was Nicodemus, of course," Lucius purred, "and knowing you like I do, it was just what you'd need to not only hate the man enough to help me, but enough to point you in the direction of discovering that he was a vampire. No one makes connections the way you do, love," she said mockingly.

Severus stared. That meant that the Death Eaters had known right from the start where Malachai was. Lucius had known. He'd known, and he'd manipulated Severus effortlessly like a puppet.

"So, what's a Shadowmancer, then?" Severus asked irritably, though he didn't particularly care. What he did care about was that this had all been a trap from the beginning. Malachai had said he'd felt like he'd been herded onto this continent.. right in this direction.. right where the Dark Lord could get his claws into him. Severus felt utterly betrayed by Lucius, and not only that, but the one person who did trust him was the one person he'd handed to the Death Eaters.

"It's a specialized field of Thaumaturgy. Blood magic."

"And what exactly about that is so special that the Dark Lord wants Malachai?" Severus asked. If Lucius was going to hand out answers, he might as well take advantage of it. But what was he going to do?

"Perhaps he'll let you find out firsthand, once I tell him you came here tonight." Narcissa glared.

Severus glared back. "I mean that little to you?"

"You mean to me exactly how much I mean to you," Lucius replied angrily. "I will not be made a fool of. You've chosen your side –"

"No."

"Oh, I believe you have, Severus."

"Lucius – no – it's not what you think. I cannot help it. He told me – it is a bond that develops against the victim's will – he fed from me," Severus said desperately, though he wondered why he was bothering. Lucius hadn't trusted him from the beginning, but perhaps he could convince Lucius he was willing to forgive and forget if it could benefit him later.

Lucius stared at Severus in utter revulsion. Meanwhile, Narcissa's jaw was widening, her hair growing limp – he was changing back. "Just the once?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"No, twice. He told me I wouldn't be able to help it –"

"He's marked you as his own," Lucius said, realization hitting him. His eyes grew wide, but he was interrupted by Narcissa's robes constricting around a body suddenly not woman shaped. Lucius stepped back, drawing his wand and pointing it at Severus even as he undid the fastenings of Narcissa's robes and pulled them off hastily. Underneath, he was clad in one of Severus'.

Eyes that were now steel gray stared back accusatorily at Severus from once-again-Lucius' face. "Take off your cloak."

"What?" Severus asked, instantly alarmed.

"I'm getting wet, and I don't care to be. Give me your cloak. I'm not going to wear a ladies fur-lined cloak now."

Severus stared at the point of Lucius' wand, and begrudgingly removed his cloak.

"And your wand."

"Afraid I'm going to hex you, Lucius?"

"Hand it over, or I will hex _you_."

What choice did he have? Severus may have believed a number of things this year that were untrue, but he knew what Lucius was capable of, and what Lucius would do to him – lover or not. And hexing Lucius would only confirm his guilt anyway, so he handed over both wand and cloak.

Lucius pocketed Severus' wand, then donned his cloak, smoothing his hair under the hood.

Rain dribbled down on Severus' head, despite the building's overhang. A brilliant end to the day.

"You'll have to be taken, too. I shall have to look and see how long the detoxification takes," Lucius muttered, glaring. He folded his arms, but still kept his wand trained on Severus.

"Detoxification?"

"You said yourself a bond had developed. The more a Vampire bites you, the more toxins your system absorbs."

"Toxins?" Severus was thoroughly confused.

"You didn't know this?" Lucius looked amused. "The man who so desperately wants to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts doesn't know that Vampires' bites are toxic?"

"That isn't exactly in the text," Severus muttered irritably.

"Not if you're going from one of Lockhart's books, certainly."

"Oh, let's not go down _that_ lane, Lucius," Severus spit, enraged enough to consider yanking the wand out of Lucius' grasp and snapping it in two – however briefly.

"I'm surprised your lover didn't tell you," Lucius returned spitefully.

"Of course not, he's the one who bloody well bit me and then took advantage of his ruddy 'bond' developing, that little wanker," Severus seethed, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders as rain dribbled uncomfortably down his neck.

Lucius didn't reply with another barb, surprising Severus. He looked thoughtful now.

Which was fine, because just then, Severus' attention was drawn to the sky, where he saw the tail edge of a glittering green mark lighting up the night sky. "Mosmorde," Severus whispered, affecting awe.

Lucius whirled around, then grabbed Severus' sleeve and dragged him back around the building. Now free of the overhang, rain pelted down on them, as if some being were sitting in the sky, dumping bucketfuls of water directly over Severus' head. His hair instantly became plastered to his face and neck, and his clothes were soaked through a moment later.

"That's the signal. They've got him."

"So soon." Severus hadn't even realized he'd spoken it aloud, quiet as it was, but Lucius responded, making him start.

"All that was required was to lure him out of the restaurant, which I believe us leaving did. Ah, that must be Rodolphus' mosmorde," Lucius commented, "his did always burn the most brightly."

"Yours looks like a bloody ponce has drawn it."

"Shut up, Severus."

Severus of course had no intention of doing so, but before he could offer further comment, someone Apparated in next to them. The hood on their cloak was drawn back to reveal Walden Macnair, and he was bleeding from an angry looking wound on his forehead.

"Lucius! We're having some trouble. We need your help to subdue it."

"What?" Lucius whipped around to face Macnair, raising his wand and casting _Lumos_. The light revealed that Macnair's cloak had been slashed in places, and the dark fabric of it was stained with something other than rainwater. "I thought you had him already – the mark's already in the sky, you idiot! You don't cast the mark _before_ you catch him!"

"Obviously," Macnair shouted, eyes wide and desperate, "You have to come now! We had him, but all of a sudden he went bleeding mad on us and—"

"Why did no one – never mind. Lead on." Lucius' voice had panicked as well, making Severus realize he wasn't as confident about this operation as he seemed.

Macnair took off at a sprint and Lucius hurried to follow. Neither of them had given Severus another thought, but Severus shot off after them anyway. Lucius had his wand, he told himself, and that was why he was following. Not because he was heeding the desperate compulsion to seek out Malachai, no. Not at all.

Their heavy footsteps splashed through puddles and sent up constant sprays of water, not that Severus could feel the difference, soaked through and shivering as he was. It did, however, impede his vision, and he barely kept track of what turns the running forms of Lucius and Macnair took. He couldn't even tell where they were headed, with the rain so dense in the dimly lit streets.

Then he turned a corner at a wide angle, tripped, and saw a bolt of blue light flash just to the left of his stumbling body. Straightening quickly, Severus turned his head towards the direction the curse had been fired from, and saw a most desperate scene indeed.

Three bodies lay still on the wet pavement, and three more live ones were trying desperately to hang on to a thrashing figure. They were behind a building, but Severus had no idea which one. Lucius and Macnair were running straight for the thrashing figure who Severus was certain was Malachai, though while Macnair charged straight for the Vampire and tried to latch on as the others were, Lucius hung back.

"Get off him you idiots! I can't curse him if – oh sod it –" Lucius shouted, and fired off a curse.

It hit Macnair squarely between the shoulders and he dropped from the pile. With a roar, Malachai used the distraction to toss another one of his attackers to the ground, and Severus got a look at his face – papery skin stretched too tight over high cheekbones. Eyes wide with too much white locked on his, and Severus felt the desperate urge to throw himself at the other Death Eaters, to come to the aid of this strange monster.

He rushed forward, hands spread in front of him, with the vague idea that he could tear the other two off Malachai as if they weighed no more than feathers. Triumph soared through his blood as his icy fingers twisted numbly in the spelled cloth of a dry cloak, and he caught the surprised gaze of Rodolphus Lestrange through a mat of wet hair before he froze completely.

Severus tried to thrash, to command his body to surge free of whatever it was holding him, desperately, only thinking belatedly that he must've been hit with a stunning charm. Rodolphus shoved him away, and Severus' motionless body toppled over backwards. He felt the pavement strike him sharply in the back of his head, and then all he could see was the sky.

The stars were bright, Severus noticed, though he was still commanding his body to move, to no avail. Rain poured down into wide open eyes and stung mercilessly as he heard boots splash past at a full run. Shouting continued, things like, "Get out of the way!" "You idiot!" "Stop him!" and "Don't let him go for the road!"

Then he heard Malachai's voice, raised in a scream, vowing murder most bloody. There was a flash of light that lit up the sky, a dull thunk, and a cry of triumph from what must have been the Death Eaters. Severus felt a thrill of panic, wondering if he'd be taken back to headquarters with Malachai or if Lucius was feeling spiteful enough to leave him here, and then someone was levitating him off the ground.

The pain in his eyes was growing more acute, and he couldn't see anything anymore. Severus wondered if it was possible to go blind from this. Lucius was shouting orders, but the sound was distant, and then all was silent for a few long minutes. Finally he heard approaching footsteps, and someone grasped one of his arms almost painfully tight. He felt the familiar pull as they Disapparated.

A moment later, they were in a bright room that Severus couldn't see, but at least rain water was no longer pelting down on his eyes, even though they still burned badly. At least his mouth hadn't been open. He recognized Rabastian Lestrange's "_Petrificus totalus_," and then fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap as the levitation and stunning charms ended abruptly.

The first thing he did was shut his eyes tight and draw his limbs closer protectively.

"What should I do with him?" That was Rabastian again.

More footsteps, this time the sound of boots echoing across a stone floor. Stone floor? They weren't in Headquarters, then. The footsteps halted quite close to his ears, and for a moment or two, there was silence. Severus waited, sopping wet, breath in his throat, wondering if his fate were being decided.

"Well, the vampire looked hungry, didn't it?"

Severus tried to protest, but in his panic at those calmly spoken words, he let out a wordless, sputtered shout, and nothing more. Before he could try again, a hand was yanking him roughly to his feet. He felt hot breath on his cold face, but didn't open his eyes. "Lucius –"

"Toss him in."

"Lucius!"

Stumbling as someone shoved him, Severus tried to halt his forward momentum, to lash out blindly with fists at whoever had done it.

"What's wrong with you?" Lucius demanded from behind Severus, "Why do you have your eyes closed?"

When Severus didn't answer, Lucius stepped in between his punches and shoved Severus forward again, one hand between his shoulder blades.

Severus' arm was caught when he stumbled and almost fell. He heard the scraping of metal on metal; a door opening. A kick to the back of one knee sent him sprawling forward several feet, palms skidding against the rough stone floor, and then he heard the door slam behind him.

Silence. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. Severus opened his stinging eyes and was met with only darkness. The line of light under the door provided no illumination. And Lucius still had his wand. No windows. The prisoner's whole world would become this small room, he knew. A cell. He was in a cell.

"Malachai? It's Severus – don't -"

Severus heard absolutely nothing before the body slammed into his. He coughed again, writhing desperately under the sudden weight pinning him down. Fingernails scraped his hair away from his neck, and Malachai shifted over him, then like a striking viper bit down and easily punctured flesh. Severus only felt the barest of stings before pleasure overwhelmed pain.

Severus cried out in ecstasy, body arching against the Vampire on top of him. He felt something stiff prod him in the valley of his arse, cold and wet from the material of his soaked trousers, but thoughts were fuzzing out completely. He floated along on a continuous wave of lust, aware only of that and a wonderful draining feeling, as if all his stress and pain was being slowly drawn from his body. He relaxed in the embrace of the Vampire above him, eyes slipping closed once more.

When he became aware of himself next it was to realize that he had passed out at some point. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, or even what time of day it was. He was shivering with an inner cold, and his clothes were still fairly sopping. Once again, he felt as though he hadn't actually gotten any rest; in fact, he felt quite exhausted.

He felt drained.

Salazar, how much blood had he lost? Severus remembered Malachai's waxen face, those desperate, hungry eyes… and Malachai had never left him feeling like this before. He'd scarce noticed the missing blood when he'd woken after sleeping the other two times.

They wouldn't help him. If Malachai had taken too much… if they didn't let him out of here….

He couldn't think about that. Severus struggled to sit upright, feeling around for the wall to prop himself against. He situated himself with some difficulty, peering around the room. His head throbbed, though his eyes were only a dull ache in his skull now, but he had no idea how his sight was; there was no light to illuminate the darkness down here.

Was Malachai in here? Had they taken him out? It was more disconcerting that Severus couldn't tell. And he wanted so desperately to know.

"Malachai?"

Silence stretched out. Severus sighed; the only sound in the room. He was about to start worrying about what they could be doing with the Vampire when he heard a very quiet, meek, "Yes?"

Severus couldn't help the relief that flooded him. "How long have we been in here?"

Again, another long pause. "I don't know. I can't tell. Are you.. alright?"

Malachai's voice sounded very different than Severus was used to hearing. It lacked the usual cocky confidence, and Severus realized, with a sick feeling, that the Vampire was scared.

Severus swung his head around to face the direction Malachai's voice came from, and his head swam from sudden dizziness. Wincing, he answered, "Not really."

"I'm sorry. I took too much blood."

"Oh, really?" Severus asked, putting as much sarcasm into his tone as he could muster, but it paled before what he usually achieved. He shouldn't have moved his head, obviously, but it was disconcerting talking to a disembodied voice.

"I'm sorry," Malachai repeated, in that same soft, scared voice. "I couldn't help myself. I was so hungry…"

"Yes, of course," Severus muttered, just hoping Malachai would shut up. He'd been so worried that Malachai wasn't here, and now he was wishing for it, because he didn't want to listen to the Vampire tell him how he'd lost control so completely. That no matter what else happened, Malachai was still a monster, not a man. A dangerous monster, no matter what he might say, and thus Severus could not trust him.

Apparently his short reply had been interpreted correctly, because the Vampire offered nothing further.

Oh Merlin, his head ached, and it was difficult to move. He felt so tired, so sluggish, but even more than that, he felt so… thirsty. His throat was full of sand, his stomach painfully empty, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperately parched.

"How much blood did you take?" Severus asked, not able to stand the silence. Talking would distract him from the throbbing pain in his head, hopefully, from how desperately his stomach cramped with hunger.

"Too much," the Vampire said again, and then his voice came a bit stronger as he added, "I'm so sorry, Severus! I took too much, but I was so thirsty…" His voice had almost taken on a dreamlike quality.

_So thirsty,_ Severus agreed. Yes, so was he.

"You keep saying 'too much'," Severus replied, trying to focus on that and keep himself irritated, distract himself from the pain. "What is too much?"

"It's alright though," Malachai said, and suddenly he was kneeling before Severus, cold hands on either side of his face. "It's alright," he breathed, and Severus caught the scent of blood. "I saved you. I couldn't let you die," Malachai added, but Severus was concentrating on a scent he'd never really noticed before. Oh, it was familiar enough, from his time amongst the Death Eaters, but he'd never given that particular scent a definable name. Now, however… Now, he knew exactly how blood smelled.

"Let me die?" Severus repeated, swallowing, which hurt his dry throat. "I was dying?"

"I saved you," Malachai insisted, stroking Severus' cheeks. "I saved you."

"How?" This was irritating; Malachai was just babbling now.

Before the Vampire could answer, they were interrupted by the metal door shrieking as it was pulled open, light spilling into the room. Severus winced, slitting his eyes and shading them with one hand. The light hurt after so much time in the dark, not to mention his eyes stinging with water to begin with. Malachai shrunk back into the shadows, and Severus thought that was a fine idea, but he didn't move, trying to make out who was standing in the doorway.

Behind him, Malachai made an odd hissing noise, and Severus noticed a wand being pointed in their general direction. Severus felt the urge to laugh, imagining Malachai coiled and hissing like a cornered cat, but laughing would probably hurt more.

"So you're not dead."

Lucius. He sounded so… disinterested.

"Thought you said 'detoxify'," Severus rasped, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic.

"Well, you aren't dead. Perhaps we shall, before we present you both to the Dark Lord. Right now, however," Lucius began, but that was as far as he got before he was being knocked back through the door by a black form.

Severus thought, at first, that it was Malachai, but he was staring right at it as Lucius shouted, and Malachai's voice was in his ear, a hand on his leg. "We've got to get out now, Severus."

He sounded so calm. Severus felt calm, too, at that touch. He watched Lucius wrestle with the black form, toss curses that passed harmlessly right through it.

"Shouldn't we… do something?"

"You're too weak. We have to leave."

"Just… leave?"

"Do you have a problem with escaping?" Malachai asked, his voice suddenly frank and more as it usually sounded.

"It just seems so easy," Severus snapped, then decided that had been a mistake, because his jaw ached quite badly.

"Well, we do have to find our way out of here first," Malachai said, standing and offering Severus a hand.

"I don't think there are anti-Apparation wards here."

"You're in no condition, and I can't. So if you'd like to stand up, we'll limp out the door." Malachai's gaze cut back to Lucius, still shouting and rolling around on the floor.

"What's he wrestling with?"

"A shadow."

Severus suddenly wanted to laugh. "I'm thirsty."

"Me too. Let me grab a bite before we go."

Severus glanced at Lucius, then very carefully climbed to his feet without Malachai's aid. He stood, reeled dizzily for a few moments, and then fell against the Vampire, who staggered a bit under his weight. "Aren't you… How can you be thirsty?" Severus asked, not sounding nearly as indignant as he'd have liked. "You certainly took plenty from me!"

"Yes, but… Look, this really isn't a good time to explain. I need to feed."

Finally, something Lucius threw at the shadow banished it, and as he struggled to his feet, Malachai launched himself out the door like a pouncing jungle cat and sent them both sprawling to the ground.

Severus leaned against the cell door, then recalled that Lucius still had his wand. He shifted out of the doorway and into the main room, wondering if he could get the wand away from him before he hexed Malachai. But as Malachai's head fell to his neck, Lucius let out one strangled cry, and then abruptly stopped thrashing.

Oh, right.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Severus knelt down next to his lover and plucked his wand from unresisting fingers. After another thought, he rummaged through Lucius' pockets and found his own wand, a tube of lipstick, and Lucius' purse. Severus left the lipstick, but figured he could use the bag of galleons. "For rent," he murmured, patting Lucius' limp wrist. He glanced at Malachai, who had one small hand holding the hair out of his face, and so he got a good look at the mouth attached to Lucius' neck, saw the throat working as he swallowed blood.

Merlin, that looked good. Shocked at his thoughts, Severus glanced away, and noticed Lucius' wrist again. He was so very pale – paler than Severus even remembered. Severus picked up Lucius' wrist in one hand, turned it over, and stared at the blue veins winding their way just below the skin. Before he even realized it, he was biting into one, canines sliding so easily like twin razors into the skin.

And then the world came alive.

Taste exploded over his mouth as the first droplets of Lucius' blood hit his tongue, and he groaned at the taste of it. Lucius groaned, too, but he paid that no mind, just worried at the wound with his tongue, drawing out more and more of that delicious taste into his mouth. The world was a brilliant, luminous place, the stone around them smelling beautifully acrid, but even better than that was Lucius' blood, the best smell – the best taste – he'd ever experienced.

Trancelike, he drank, too obsessed with the pure pleasure of sating his thirst to realize that this was not normal behaviour in a Potions Master of thirty-seven.

Someone was tugging his shoulder. Severus shrugged them off. The tug returned a moment later, harder. Severus ignored it. Nothing mattered at all; it could be the Dark Lord, for all he cared in that moment, and he'd still ignore him.

It wasn't until the person wrenched him free of Lucius' wrist, turned his shoulders to face him, and shook him a few times, that Severus realized it was Malachai.

And then another realization struck.

Malachai winced; Severus could imagine how thunderous his expression must be. "Severus I know you want to yell but we've got to go right now!" he said in a rush, and hauled Severus to his feet.

Severus stumbled, and realized his aches and pains had melted away with his – what? Dinner? But he really could do with a nap now. "I am going to kill you. Once I feel more up to it."

"Wait your turn."

Severus turned quickly to see Rabastian Lestrange with a wand trained on them and no idea how he'd come to be there. He hadn't even heard the crack of Apparation. A moment later, Rodolphus blinked into view, and added his wand to Rabastian's. Oh. A Disillusionment charm.

Severus stabbed the air with his wand, wordlessly casting an _Expelliarmus_ that caught Rabastian off-guard. Malachai lunged as Rodolphus simultaneously fired off a curse, and Severus wasn't quick enough to get out of Malachai's way _and_ the hex that knocked him backwards and caused his clothes to start burning.

Searing, unbelievable pain swept over him as the fire caught and spread, and Severus screamed "_Aguamenti_," managing to hit himself with the water after a few tortured moments of blind flailing. The magical fire didn't extinguish, however, and by the time he thought of the counter-curse, he barely had the breath to cast it.

Severus only had the warning of a shouted, "_Crucio_," before a new – and much worse – pain assaulted him.

He bucked and writhed and screamed as his entire world turned to agony. The problem with the Cruciatus seemed to be that no matter how many times one had been under the influence of it, it never got easier to bare.

Severus' whole world was reduced to that agonizing pain. Everything else dimmed in comparison to the fire raging in every cell in his body. It seemed like an eternity before the curse ended, and when relief finally came, Severus was left staring at a pair of feet.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Malachai whispered, kneeling down next to him. A moment later, he was gasping for air and staring into a pretty, worried face. "So sorry. Oh Merlin, Severus."

More shouting was coming from somewhere beyond Severus' sight. There seemed to be a lot more people than there had been a moment ago. Severus recognized a lot of voices, and was startled to realize that some of them were Aurors. How long had he been under the curse?

"Don't worry, Severus. Dumbledore's here. Everything's all right now." Malachai stroked his face, and Severus let his eyes drift closed. Dumbledore was here. It would be alright. "I'll protect you, Sunshine," Malachai said quietly, "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get out alright."

Perhaps it was the tenuous hold Severus had on consciousness, but he trusted those words. Maybe Malachai was a monster, but he was a monster on the right side.

* * *

Epilogue 

When Severus next regained consciousness, he'd been in a soft bed, Malachai next to him, Dumbledore nowhere to be found. Malachai revealed that they were in a muggle hotel in London, and Severus had only not gone storming out of the room because he physically wasn't able.

Finding out that he was now a Vampire had been a bit of a shock, as well. He'd wanted to write the incident with Lucius' wrist off as a freak 'let us never speak of this again' accident, but apparently he couldn't. He was a Vampire, and thanks to that fact, he'd healed much quicker from his injuries than he otherwise would have.

But Malachai was there. He would be able to acclimate, to survive, to enjoy Unlife. The future was wide open, and it didn't include wars and the Dark Lord and bratty children. For the first time in a long time, Severus thought he might actually have a future.

* * *

The End 

(gosh it feels great to write that!)

Or is it? Could the author really be that much of a masochist, that a sequel may already be in the works?

…Yeah.


End file.
